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Christmas  Selections 


For  Readings 
and  Recitations 


Compiled  6y 

Rosamond     Livingstone    McNaught 

-    :+>  7  7  5 


philadel  phia 
The   Penn    Publishing   Company 


ign 


COFYSIOHT   1906   BY   THE   PeNK   PUBLISHING   CoKPANV 


2.% 


Christmas  Selection!! 


■MY- 

CONTENTS 

'08 

Ann  Teek's  Silk  Dress 99 

-An  Unfortunate      ....  Frank  I.  Stanton 188 

At  Christmas  Tide      .    .    .  Susie  M.  Best 174 

At  Christinas  Time    .    .    .  W.  G.  Pari: 184 

Ballade  of  Old  Loves,  A   .  Carolyn  Wells .140 

Chapter    from     Hustler's 

Camp,  A 177 

Chimney  Drummer  Boy, 

The William  J.  Long 112 

Chrees'mas  Time   ....  Thomas  A.  Daly 142 

Christmas 23 

Christmas Nora  Chesson 73 

Christinas         Frank  H.  Siveet 85 

Christmas  Acrostic  .  .  .  Rosamond  Livingstone  Mc Naught  .  107 
Christmas    and    the    Old 

Year Rosamond  Livingstone  McNaught  .    49 

Christmas  Box,  The  .    .    .  Rosamond  Livingstone  Mc  Naught  .    16 

Christmas  Carol,  A     .    .    .  Christian  Burke  143 

Christinas  Coffee  Pot,  A    .  Elmore  Elliott  Peake 19  L 

Christmas  Day Ruth  Raymond 128 

Christmas  Eve Frank  E.  Brown 165 

Christmas  Fairies   .    .    .    .  Rosamond  Livingstone  MeNaught .    87 

Christmas  Greeting l„4 

Christmas  Minuet,  A     .    .  Minna  Irving      80 

Christmas  Joy  and  Sorrow  Rosamond  Livingstone  McNaught  .    77 

Christmas  Land 76 

Christ  mas  Light,  The    .    .  Frank  Walcott  Hutt 67 

Christmas    Peacemaker, 

The Virna  Sheard 154 

Christmas,  Prithee     . 153 

Christinas  Thoughts  .    .    .  Washington  Irving      127 

Christmas  Tree  in  the  Nur- 
sery. The Richard  Watson  Gilder     ....  125 

Christmas  Tree,  The      . 7 

Christohal Sophie  May 166 

Cumin'  Christmas  Morn   .  Ben  King 175 

December Alice  Arnold 81 

Discontented   Fir-Tree, 

The Rosamond  Livingstone  McNaught  .    34 

Empty  Stocking,  The Ill 

Feel     in    the     Christmas 

Air,  A James  Whit  comb  Riley 8 

Gift  of  the   Kind   Heart, 

The Everett  McNeil 43 


6  CONTENTS 

Going  Home  for  Christmas 131 

Great  Saving,  A      ...    .  Alexander  Ricketts 74 

1  Ionic  for  Christmas  .    .    .  L.  G.  Moberly 88 

How    the     Christ-Flo-ver 

Bloomed   .    .        ...  Nora  Archibald  Smith 150 

If  I  were  Santa  Claus    .    .  Rosamond  Liviny stone  McNanght  .    97 

In  Santa  Claus  Time      .    .  Frank  L.  Stanton 106 

Joey's  Christmas    .    .        .  Rosamond  Livingstone  McNaught  .    50 
Laong's   Christmas   Mis- 
sion    115 

Legend   of    the    Christ- 
Child.  A  .  .    .  Mary  Clarke  Huntington   ....  189 
Little    Feller's    Stockin', 

The Joe  Lincoln 129 

Little  Wolf's  Wooden 

Shoes 68 

Mistletoe  and  Holly  .    .    .  Thomas  A.  Daly 77 

Money  and  Dreams 82 

Morley's  Christmas  Eve, 

The Harriet  Beecher  Stowe 60 

Mrs.  Magnire — A  Christ- 
mas Gift  Tliomas  A.  Daly      132 

North   Wind's  Christmas 

Tour,  The Jennie  White    .    .        9 

On  Christmas  Eve  ....  Judd  Mortimer  Lewis 1 52 

Peace  of  Christ,  The  .    .    .  William  Kent 114 

Polly's  Discovery  ....  Charlotte  Brewster  Jordan     ...    58 

Poor  House  Christmas,  A  Lizzie  M.  Hadley 37 

Poor  Papa Elsie  Duncan  Yale 72 

Quest  of  the  Magi,  The     .  Benj.  F.  Leggett      56 

Roger  Kent's  Home-Com- 

ing Anthony  E.  Anderson 185 

Santa  Claus  in  Holland     .  Helen  M.  Richardson 163 

Shammy's  Christmas  Tree  Eliza  Evans  Cartwright      ....    24 

Sly  Santa  Claus Mrs.  S.  C.  Stone 123 

Star  of  the  East Mary  B.  Sleight 43 

Turned  Out Frank  Hazlewood  Rowe     .    .    .'   .  133 

Virgin's  Lullaby,  The  .    .  Nora  Hopper 98 

What  Santa  Clans  Thinks 15 

When     Elizabeth     Went 

Home Ethel  Bowman  Ronald 144 

When  Santa  Claus  was  111 120 

Willie's  Dream Stacey  E.  Baker      .......    85 

With   Neither  Purse   nor 

Scrip 107 

Word  to  Santa  Claus,  A „ 49 


Christmas    Selections 


2-377  *) 

THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE 

By  permission  of  "The  American  Primary  Teacher,"  Boston 


YOU  come  from  a  land  where  the  snow  lies  deep 
In  forest  grand,  on  mountain  steep  ; 
Where  the  days  are  short,  and  the  nights  are  long, 
And  never  a  sky-lark  sings  his  song. 
Have  you  seen  the  wild  deer  in  his  mountain  home, 
And  watched  the  descent  of  the  brown  pine  cone  1 
Do  you  miss  your  mates  in  the  land  of  snow, 
Where  none  but  the  evergreen  branches  grow  I 
Dear  tree,  we  will  dress  you  in  robes  so  bright, 
That  ne'er  could  be  seen  a  prettier  sight ; 
In  glittering  balls,  and  tinkling  bells, 
And  the  star  which  the  story  of  Christmas  tells  j 
On  every  branch  we  will  place  a  light, 
That  will  send  its  gleam  through  the  starry  night, 
And  the  little  children  will  gather  there 
And  carol  their  songs  in  voices  fair  ; 
And  we  hope  that  you  never  will  homesick  be, 
You  beautiful,  beautiful  Christmas  tree. 

7 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 
A  FEEL  IN  THE  CHRISTMAS  AIR 

By  permission  of"  The  Cosmopolitan,'-  New  York 


THEY'S  a  kind  o'  feel  iu  the  air,  to  me, 
When  the  Chris' mas  time  sets  in, 
That's  about  as  much  of  a  mystery 

As  ever  J've  run  agin  ! — 
Fer  instance,  now,  whilse  I  gain  in  weight 

An'  gineral  health,  I  swear 
They's  a  goneness  somers  I  can't  quite  state- 
A  kind  o'  feel  in  the  air. 


They's  a  feel  in  the  Chris'mas  air  goes  right 

To  the  spot  where  a  man  lives  at !  — 
It  gives  a  feller  an  appetite  — 

They  ain't  no  doubt  about  that !  — 
And  yit,  they's  somepin' — I  don't  know  what  - 

That  follows  me  here  and  there, 
And  ha'  nts  and  worries  and  spares  me  not  — 

A  kind  o'  feel  in  the  air  ! 


Is  it  the  racket  the  children  raise? 

W'y,  uo  ! — God  bless  'em  ! — no  ! 
Is  it  the  eyes  and  the  cheeks  ablaze  — 

Like  my  own  wuz,  long  ago?  — 
Is  it  the  bleat  o'  the  whistle  and  beat 

O'  the  little  toy  drum,  and  blare 
O'  the  horn  %  — No  !  No  ! — It's  jest  the  sweet - 

The  sad  sweet  feel  in  the  air. 

James  Whitcomb  Riley 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  9 

THE  NORTH  WIND'S  CHRISTMAS  TOUR 

By  peiLuissiou  of  The  Ladies'  World,"  New  York 


IT  was  the  last  mouth  of  the  year,  and  the  last  half 
of  the  last  mouth,  the  very  busiest  and  most  per- 
plexing', as  well  as  the  most  interesting  and  delight- 
ful time  of  the  year,  because  it  brings  with  it  that 
day  of  all  days — Christmas. 

The  Christmas  bustle  and  stir  were  iu  full  tide  all 
over  the  globe,  and  away  up  iu  his  far  uortheru 
home  the  old  North  Wind  was  making  ready  for  his 
December  tour  arouud  the  world. 

"Bless  me  !  "  he  blustered,  glancing  at  his  calen- 
dar— the  suu — "  the  year  is  almost  euded  and  Christ- 
mas will  be  here  in  a  few  days.  I  must  hurry,  or 
I'll  uot  get  off  in  time  to  help  Santa  Claus  with  his 
work,  and  he  is  unusually  busy  this  year,  I  uuder- 
stand,  and  needs  my  help." 

Now  it  would  have  surprised  some  people,  who 
consider  the  North  Wind  a  cold,  gruff,  boisterous 
old  fellow,  to  hear  him  talk  of  taking  part  in  the 
Christmas  festivities,  and* in  the  role  of  helper  to 
good  old  Santa  Claus,  too  ;  but  he  spoke  iu  a  very 
matter-of-fact  tone,  and  went  on  with  his  prepara- 
tions for  his  jouruey  just  as  though  a  Christmas  tour 
and  helping  Santa  Claus  were  quite  a  matter  of 
course  and  the  regular  order  of  things  with  him. 

"Well,  I'm  off,"  said  the  old  fellow  at  last,  his 
preparations  completed,  and  with  a  whirl  of  his 
coat-tails  that  sent  the  suowflakes  flyiug  in  every 
direction,  away  he  went.  Up  hill  and  down,  through 
the  valley,  over  lake  anil  river  and  pond,  past  held 


io  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

and  village  and  town,  he  sped,  filling  tbe  air  with 
flying  snowflakes  and  covering  the  earth  with  ice 
from  his  frosty  breath. 

"It  will  make  Christmas  so  much  merrier  for  the 
children  and  young  folks,"  he  roared  to  himself, 
"And  I  noticed  that  the  older  folks  like  a  bit  of 
snow  and  ice,  too,  at  Christmas,  to  say  nothing  of  how 
much  easier  it  makes  things  for  Santa  Claus  and  his 
reindeer." 

"Hello!  Guess  we're  going  to  have  a  spell  of 
weather,"  said  the  farmer,  looking  out  over  his 
brown  meadows.  "Mighty  glad  to  see  this  snow, 
too.  The  wheat  needed  it,  and  crops  are  always 
better  when  snow  sets  in  at  Christmas.  Eegular 
norther  we're  having,"  he  added.  "  Guess  maybe  I'd 
better  take  a  load  of  wood  and  some  potatoes  and 
truck  over  to  Widow  Jones  Christmas  morning. 
Those  young  ones  of  hers  have  good  hearty  appetites, 
and  the  widow's  so  high-spirited,  a  body  can't  do 
much  to  help  her  out.  But  this  cold  snap'll  be  a 
good  excuse,  and  she  can't  object  to  a  Christmas 
present."  And  he  went  into  the  house  to  consult 
with  his  wife  about  the  kind  of  "  truck  "  most  likely 
to  be  acceptable  to  the  Jones  family. 

"Whew!  how  cold  it's  getting,"  exclaimed  the 
merchant,  as  a  blast  of  cold  air  rushed  into  the 
well-heated  store  from  an  opening  door.  "Snow- 
ing, too  ;  that's  good.  This  will  help  trade  im- 
mensely. We  always  have  a  fine  trade  when  we 
have  a  cold,  snowy  Christmas.  This  change  in 
the  weather  is  worth  a  thousand  dollars  to  me. 
I    can    afford   to  give  the   wife    and    children    a 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  n 

pretty  good  Christmas  this  time,  thanks  to  old 
Boreas." 

Then  came  the  thought  of  those  to  whom  Christ- 
mas brought  uo  good  cheer  except  as  charity  should 
bestow  it,  aud  going  to  his  desk,  he  filled  out  a  cluck 
for  fifty  dollars  aud  seut  it  to  the  committee  who 
were  arranging  a  Christmas  feast  for  the  poor  and 
neglected  of  the  city. 

Meanwhile  the  North  Wind,  still  speeding  on  his 
journey,  had  reached  the  warm  southland,  where 
the  terrible  Fever  Spectre  had  been  holding  high 
carnival  for  weeks,  seizing  upon  men,  women  and 
children  and  laying  them  upon  beds  of  suffering  and 
pain,  and  in  many  cases  death,  bringing  to  the 
homes  of  the  land  gloom  and  sorrow  and  filling  all 
hearts  with  fear  aud  dread. 

"Aha  ! "  said  the  old  North  Wind,  as  he  saw  the 
state  of  things,  "  this  is  where  I'm  needed.  I'll  soon 
put  an  end  to  this.  A  pretty  Christmas  they'd  have 
here  if  this  went  ou  !  " 

Aud  giving  his  cloak  an  indignant  whirl,  he 
rushed  over  the  laud  so  fiercely  and  determinedly 
that  the  Fever  Spectre,  who  had  hesitated  aud  fal- 
tered in  his  work  of  destruction  at  the  first  icy  breath 
of  the  North  Wind,  now  dropped  everything  and 
fled  in  terror  aud  dismay  before  the  indignant  old 
fellow's  terrible  blasts,  leaving  his  poor  victims  pale 
and  weak,  but  happy  and  thankful  enough  over  his 
departure  and  their  escape  from  his  clutches. 

"Thank  God  for  this  north  wind,"  said  the  doc- 
tor, returning  from  his  round  of  visits  to  his  patients. 
"  This  frost  and  snow  will  effectually  end  the  fever's 


12  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

ravages,  and  we  shall  have  a  right  Merry  Christmas 
yet." 

"There!"  panted  the  North  Wind,  "that  finishes 
my  journey,  and  now  I  must  get  back  home  in  time 
for  my  own  Christmas  dinner.  Hello!  what'sthis!" 
and  darting  down  the  chimuey  of  a  big  tenement 
house  over  which  he  was  passing,  he  brought  up  a 
slip  of  paper  ou  which  something  was  printed  in  a 
child's  unskilful  hand. 

"Thought  maybe  I'd  find  some  little  matters  to 
attend  to  on  my  way  home,  and  here's  one  of  them 
now.  Looks  like  one  of  those  letters  Santa  Clans  is 
always  getting  from  the  children.  Yes,  that's  what 
it  is,"  he  continued,  blowing  the  folded  sheet  open 
and  examining  it  hastily.  "  A  letter  to  Santa  Clans 
from  some  of  those  poor  little  fellows  in  that  big, 
forlorn  house.  I  suppose  I  missed  it  when  I  went 
this  way  before,  and  now  it's  too  late  to  get  it  to 
Santa  Clans  in  time  for  him  to  attend  to  it,  for  I'll 
not  get  home  to-night  before  he  starts  out  on  his 
trip.     I'll  just  have  to  look  after  it  myself." 

All  this  time  he  was  twirling  the  little  soot-stained 
note  around  thoughtfnlly  and  tossing  it  from  one 
hand  to  the  other.  But  now  he  caught  it  up,  puffed 
out  his  cheeks,  and  with  one  strong  whiff  of  his 
breath  sent  it  flying,  across  streets  and  houses, 
straight  to  the  window  of  a  pleasant,  comfortable- 
looking  house  a  few  blocks  away,  where  it  fluttered, 
fell,  and  rested  on  the  broad  window-sill. 

"Oh,- mamma!  what's  that?"  exclaimed  a  young 
girl  sitting  in  an  easy  chair  close  to  the  window,  as 
the  little  letter  danced  before  her,  and  quickly  opem 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  11 

ing  the  window,  she  drew  in  the  little  missive 
eagerly  unfolded  it  and  read  .• 

"Deer  Santy  claws  plese  cuni  to  our  hous  and 
bring  us  soni  crista  us  gifts,  and  we  will  lov  you. 
"  Kobuie  and  Minnie  Bkown." 

"Oh,  mamma,"  said  the  child,  "if  we  only  knew 
where  they  live,  we  could  send  them  some  Christ- 
mas gifts.  There's  the  doll  I  dressed,  and  the  scrap- 
books  I  made  ;  and  I  have  enough  pennies  to  buy 
something  for  the  little  boy,  if  we  only  could  find 
them,"  and  the  sweet  voice  was  trembling  with  ex- 
citement and  regret. 

"Well,  dear,"  said  the  mother,  smiling  at  the 
child's  eagerness,  "I  think  wre  can  find  them,  for 
on  this  side  of  the  children's  letter  is  the  name  of  the 
street  and  the  number  of  the  house.  Some  one  has 
evidently  begun  a  letter  and  got  no  further  than 
that.  But  this  is  all  we  need  ;  and  when  Aunt  Alice 
comes  I  will  get  her  to  sit  with  you  while  I  go  out 
and  hunt  up  your  little  proteges." 

"Oh,  goody,  goody!"  exclaimed  the  little  girl, 
clapping  her  hands  joyously.  "And  if  you  find 
them  I  shall  have  a  happy,  happy  Christmas,  for  I 
could  not  bear  to  have  everybody  doing  so  much  for 
me  and  I  not  doing  anything  for  anybody." 

The  North  Wind  had  lingered  to  see  if  his  further 
services  would  be  needed  in  behalf  of  the  children's 
letter,  but  on  hearing  this  he  laughed  softly  and  re- 
sumed his  journey.  "No  need  to  give  myself  any 
uneasiness  about  that,"  he  chuckled.  "The  Brown 
youngsters  will  have  a  Merry  Christmas  without  any 


H  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

more  help  from  me,"  and  he  moved  briskly  on 
''Time's  flying,"  he  muttered,  "and  I  must  be  get 
ting  home  ;  but  there's  just  one  more  matter  1  must 
look  after,  if  it  takes  the  rest  of  the  day."  And 
gathering  up  his  cloak  with  a  determined  air,  he 
swooped  down  upon  a  highly  respectable  looking 
and  unsuspecting  gentleman  walking  briskly  along 
the  street,  and  lifting  his  hat  from  his  head,  carried 
it  off  down  the  street  and  around  the  corner  at  a 
great  rate. 

The  gentleman  followed  as  quickly  as  possible,  but 
he  was  not  so  brisk  as  the  North  Wind,  and  would 
have  given  up  the  chase  in  despair  ;  but  a  boy,  light 
of  weight  and  swift  of  foot,  came  to  his  help  and 
soon  brought  back  the  missing  property. 

The  gentleman  thanked  his  young  helper,  and  no- 
ticing how  scanty  was  his  clothing  for  such  a  cold, 
snowy  day,  was  prompted  to  ask  his  name. 

When  the  boy  gave  the  informatiou  asked,  the 
gentleman  turned  pale,  hesitated,  then  asked  where 
he  lived.  The  boy  told  him,  and  the  man  turned 
paler  still ;  then  taking  the  boy  by  the  arm,  he  said 
in  a  choked  tone  : 

"You  must  be  my  nephew — my  sister's  child. 
We  disagreed  when  we  were  young,  and  I  haven't 
seen  her  since.  I  thought  she  was  living  in  a  dis- 
tant city.     Take  me  to  her." 

And  as  the  rich,  prosperous  man  went  off  with 
the  poorly-dressed  boy  to  find  his  sister,  the  North 
Wind  laughed  aloud  with  delight  and  capered  about 
like  some  giddy,  frisky  little  April  breeze. 

"A  good  day's  work,   anu  now  lor  home. °  he 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  ij, 

said,  settling  down  to  a  steady,  even  pace.  "  I  eou- 
fess  I'm  a  trifle  blown  and  somewhat  warmed  up, 
and  shall  be  glad  to  have  a  chance  to  cool  off  and 
get  my  breath." 

As  he  drew  near  to  liis  own  comfortable  quarters, 
lie  met  Santa  Claus  just  starting  out  on  Lis  Christ- 
mas eve  tour. 

■  .Many  thanks  for  your  help,"  shouted  that  jolly 
fellow,  "and  a  Merry  Christinas  to  you." 

lint  the  North  Wind's  work  was  not  complete  un- 
til he  had  presented  himself  to  his  Master  and  made 
his  report.  When  he  had  finished,  the  Christmas 
Angels  gathered  about  him  and  sung  a  beautiful 
Christmas  carol  to  his  praise.  But  the  Christ  Child, 
whose  birthday  is  the  Christmas  Day,  and  who  is 
the  Master  of  the  North  Wind  and  Santa  Claus  and 
all  the  Christmas  Angels,  smiled  approvingly  upon 
him  and  said,  "Well  done." 

Jennie  White 


WHAT  SANTA  CLAUS  THINKS 

By  oermission  of  "School  and  Home  F.'lucation,"  Bloomington,  TIL 


HI  !  another  one  !     What's  all  the  world  about? 
Don't  these  people  know  that  I'm  most  worn 
out? 
Millions  of 'em  coming  year  by  year  ; 
Every  youngster  wretched  if  I  don't  appear. 

First,  they  want  a  rattle,  then  a  ring  to  bite  : 
Then  a  box  of  sugarplums,  then  a  doll,  01  kite; 


16  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

Next  a  story-book  to  read,  then  a  bat  and  ball, — 
Santa's  back  is  broad  and  strong,  be  must  bring 
them  all. 

Gratitude  they  talk  about, — not  a  bit  for  me. 
First  you  know  they  get  so  wise,  cry  out,  u  Fiddle 

de-de ! 
Ko   such  chap  as  Santa  Claus!"     Can't  deceive 

them  so ; 
Nev^r  find  a  six-inch  stocking  hanging  in  the  row. 

Here's  this  jolly  little  chap,  scarcely  here  a  week  ; 
Don't  I  know  he  rules  the  house,  though  he  looks 

so  meek  ; 
Both  his  eyelids  shut  up  tight,  mouth  wide  open, 

too. 
S'pose  he  got  a  look  at  me,  wonder  what  he'd  do? 

Sleep  away,   my  little  man ;   trouble  comes  with 

years ; 
You  are  bound  to  yet  your  share,  in  this  vale  of 

tears. 
Rattle,  is  it?    Well,  all  right!    Yes,  I've  got  my 

pen; 
Finish  out  your  little  nap  and  I'll  be  round  again. 


THE  CHRISTMAS  BOX 


THE  rehearsal   for  the  Christmas  exercises  was 
over.     Most  of  the  children  had  left  the  church, 
and  the  few  who  lingered  to  talk  of  Christmas  and 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  17 

its  anticipated  pleasures  took  110  notice  of  a  plainly 
dressed  little  girl  standing  near  the  door.  Betty 
had  stopped  inside  the  church  to  put  on  her  wraps 
because  the  hall  was  occupied  by  a  group  of  ladies, 
discussing  the  plans  for  the  coining  holiday. 

"Well,  it  ought  to  be  a  success,"  remarked  oue. 
"I'm  sure  we've  worked  hard  enough.  I  thought 
they  all  did  real  well  this  afternoon." 

"  These  boxes  must  be  sent  out  this  evening,  too," 
said  another.  "  Where  do  they  all  go  !  Here's  one 
marked  Evans;  that's  the  name  of  one  of  the  chil- 
dren iu  the  exercises.     Yes,  little  Betty  Evaus." 

"I  helped  fix  that  up,"  said  a  rjortly-looking 
lady.  "There's  a  host  of  children  there,  and  I 
found  so  many  things  that  I  thought  would  do  them 
good.  I  had  them  laid  out  for  the  rummage  sale, 
but  I  thought  it  was  no  use  making  poor  people 
pay  even  a  small  price  for  things  which  might  as 
well  be  giveu.  I  put  iu  a  dozen  pairs  of  Johnny's 
pants,  with  pieces  for  patches.  They  didn't  need 
much  mending,  but  Johnny  is  such  a  proud  little 
rascal,  he  won't  wear  a  garment  with  a  patch  on  it." 

Betty's  cheeks  tingled.  No  one  would  imagine 
that  her  plain,  timid  face  had  anything  but  wonder 
behind  it.  But  there  were  thoughts  behind  those 
big,  wonder-filled  eyes  of  Betty's,  and  they  were 
real,  serious  ones.  After  the  ladies  had  left  the 
nail,  she  slipped  out  through  the  glittering  snow 
toward  home,  and  her  thoughts  ran  fast  and  furious: 

"  I  guess  we  don't  need  no  old  box  with  pants  and 
patches  in  it!  My  brother  won't  wear  pants  with 
patches,  neither;  and  we're  proud,  too  I     It  ain't 


18  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

money  that  makes  people  proud,  and  poor  people 
has  just  as  much  right  to  be  proud  as  rich  ones,  I'll 
let  'em  know  that !  I'll  just  hurry  home  and  meet 
'em  at  the  door  myself,  and  tell  'em  we've  got 
plenty  of  clothes  and  eatables  and  everything,  and 
they  can  take  their  old  box  to  some  poor  folks  !  I 
hate  bein'  poor  !  I  guess  my  mother's  folks  wasn't 
so  poor,  and  that  nice  red  dress  I'm  goin'  to  wear 
to-morrow  night  ain't  one  any  one's  give  me ;  it's 
one  mother  had  when  she  was  a  young  lady,  and  the 
lace  it's  trimmed  in  is  what  she  had  on  her  wedding 
gown.  I'm  goin'  home  and  set  our  nice  plush 
album  right  in  the  window  where  them  folks  that 
brings  the  box  can  see  it,  and  I'll  tell  'em  we  don't 
need  no  box.  If  pa  hadn't  got  his  foot  hurt  we 
would  'a'  had  candy  and  presents  and  good  things, 
and  maybe  we  will,  anyway.  I'm  goin'  to  tell  them 
church  folks  so !" 

As  she  carefully  entered  the  door,  and  replaced 
the  rags  in  the  cracks  to  keep  out  the  cold,  her 
mother  spoke  eagerly  : 

"Betty,  while  you  have  on  your  wraps  can't  you 
go  up  to  Mrs.  Washburn's  and  get  the  money  she 
owes  me  for  sewing  %  I  tried  to  get  away,  but  your 
pa's  foot  has  been  paining  him,  and  I'll  have  to  go 
to  the  stores  when  you  get  back  and  get  some  things 
for  Christmas,  or  the  children  will  be  disappointed. 
Tell  her  it's  a  dollar  and  a  half.  Kun  along, 
mother's  little  helper,  and  we'll  see  how  many  nice 
things  a  dollar  and  a  half  will  buy." 

"You'll  get  my  doll,  won't  you,  mother?"  asked 
Mary,  confidently. 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  19 

"  And  me  a  horn — toot !  toot !  "  said  Bobby,  using 
bis  hand  as  a  horn  in  the  meantime. 

Betty  counted  it  over  on  the  way  to  Mrs.  Wash- 
burn's. A  quarter  would  buy  that  doll  Mary 
wanted  ;  a  nickel  for  Bobby's  horn,  a  quarter  for 
something  for  herself, — for  she  knew  mother  would 
not  leave  her  out, — a  quarter  for  something  for 
father ;  then  a  quarter  for  meat,  and  a  quarter  for 
candy  and  good  things,  and  twenty  cents  left  for — 
for  mother,  of  course.  But  who  would  buy  some- 
thing for  mother?  Father  had  bought  her  a  new 
pair  of  shoes  last  Christmas,  but  this  Christmas 
father  could  not  get  her  anything.  She  would  go 
to  the  store  herself  then,  and  get  something  for 
mother,  first  of  all.  What  would  it  be?  A  hand- 
kerchief, maybe,  with  lace  on  it,  or  a  pretty  collar. 
She  could  see  what  they  had  at  the  stores  for  a 
quarter.  She  hastened  her  steps  as  she  entered 
Mrs.  Washburn's  yard.  What  if  that  horrid  box 
should  come  while  she  was  gone  ! 

"Mrs.  Washburn  has  gone  away  to  spend  Christ- 
mas," said  the  maid  who  opened  the  door. 

"But  the  money — the  money  she  owes  mother  for 
sewing?"  faltered  Betty. 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  that,"  said  the 
maid;  "and  she  left  no  word  about  it."  Then, 
seeing  Betty's  disappointment,  she  took  an  orange 
from  the  table  and  handed  it  to  her,  saying  :  "I'm 
sorry.     Merry  Christmas  to  you." 

"Merry  Christmas,"  answered  Betty,  in  a  very 
doleful  tone,  as  she  turned  away. 

So  there  would  be  no  doll  for  Mary,  and  no  horn 


20  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

for  Bobby,  and  nothing  for  mother,  or  father.  Bettj 
stopped  and  looked  around  her.  The  lights  from 
the  windows  gleamed  out  upon  the  white  Christmas 
Eve  ;  but  on  Betty's  troubled  little  heart  they  cast 
no  glow.  They  would  not  let  her  have  the  things  at 
the  stores  without  the  money  ;  there  was  no  one  she 
could  ask  for  them,  even  if  she  would.  No,  there 
was  no  way  under  the  bright,  glittering  stars  to  get 
a  doll  and  a  horn.  And  there  would  be  no  meat 
for  the  Christmas  dinner.  There  was  only  bread 
and  potatoes  for  dinner  to-day,  and  there  would  be 
only  bread  and  potatoes  to-morrow.  Not  that  Betty 
cared,  but  mother — mother  would  care  so  awfully  ! 
Betty  raised  her  eyes  to  the  sky,  radiant  with  its 
Christmas  lights ;  if  there  was  no  way  under  the 
stars  there  must  be  a  way  above  them.  "Oh, 
Lord!"  prayed  little  Betty,  "I  don't  know  how 
you'll  do  it,  but  you  can  do  everything  just  any- 
way, so  please  hurry,  Lord,  and  send  some  way  to 
get  a  doll  and  a  horn,  and  something  for  father  and 
mother,  and — and  some  meat  for  Christmas  dinner. 
And  if  I'm  askin'  too  much,  Lord,  let  the  meat  go, 
but  let  us  have  the  other  things,  for  mother's  sake 
and  Jesus'  sake.     Amen!" 

Her  heart  glowed  with  faith  and  trust  as  she 
looked  back  to  the  earth,  almost  expecting  to  see  the 
things  she  had  asked  for.  But  the  snow  still  shoue 
white  and  cold  and  motionless,  and  the  lights  in  the 
windows  spoke  of  joy  and  comfort  only  within  the 
walls  and  closed  doors.  Suddenly  her  heart  gave  a 
startled  throb.  The  box !  There  was  the  answer 
to  her  prayer  !     There  might  be  something  else  be- 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  2, 

side  pants  and  patches  in  that  box, — a  doll,  a  horn, 
or  a  story-book!  Oh,  what  might  there  not  be? 
And  she  had  intended  sending  it  away.  No,  no, 
she  would  not  say  it  was  not  needed.  The  thought 
of  mother  and  the  little  ones  drove  all  the  foolish 
pride  from  her  heart,  and  she  laughed  aloud  as  she 
said:  "And  if  that  fat,  stuck  -up  woman  put  in  a 
dress  made  out  of  a  overcoat,  I'll  wear  it !  " 

But  on  reaching  home  she  was  again  disappointed. 
No  box  had  come,  for  none  was  in  sight,  and  she 
would  not  mention  it  to  mother  lest  it  might  not 
come  at  all.  But  mother  did  not  seem  as  disap- 
pointed as  Betty  supposed  she  would  when  she 
learned  that  there  was  no  money. 

"She  will  cry  when  we  are  all  asleep,"  thought 
Betty ;  and  when  the  light  was  out,  and  the  little 
ones  slept,  she  stole  softly  to  her  mother's  bed. 
"  Mother,  are  you  cryin'  !  "  she  asked. 

' '  Crying  t    What  for,  darling  ? ' ' 

"Because  there  ain't  nothing  for  Christmas,"  an- 
swered Betty.  "I  was  'fraid  you  was;  I'm  glad 
yon  ain't.  Don't  you,  mother.  'Cause  we  all  don't 
care." 

Mother  put  her  arms  around  the  little  comforter 
as  she  whispered  : 

"I'm  not  crying,  because  I'm  trusting  in  the 
Good  Father.  Now  run  back  to  bed,  Betty, — 
mother's  little  helper." 

On  Christmas  morning  the  sunshine  beamed  into 
Betty's  room  from  one  side  and  mother's  face  from 
the  other,  as  she  said:  "  Merry  Christmas,  Betty, 
and  Christmas  gift!"  and  Betty  sprang  out  of  bed, 


22  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

wondering  if  there  could  be  a  Christinas  gift  for 
sunie  one.  She  hardly  dared  to  think  of  it  while 
she  dressed,  fearing  she  would  hope  and  be  disap- 
pointed. But  a  shout  from  the  little  ones,  who  had 
run  out  without  stopping  to  dress,  assured  her,  and 
she  hastened  to  investigate. 

There,  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  stood  the  box, 
— a  great,  long  one, — and  Mary  and  Bobby  were 
tumbling  things  out  in  great  glee.  Mary  was  wild 
over  finding,  not  only  one,  but  four  dolls !  Bobby 
had  dug  out  a  rubber  ball,  an  elephant,  and — oh, 
wonder  ! — a  horn  !  u  Surely  the  Lord  fixed  up  that 
box  after  all,"  thought  Betty,  as  she  pouuced  upon 
a  story-book.  There  were  sacks  of  candy,  nuts, 
apples,  cakes,  aud  ribbons,  collars,  handkerchiefs  ; 
piles  of  waists,  and  ties,  and  stockings, — things  too 
numerous  to  mention,  for  mother,  father,  and  all 
the  children.  And  all  night  the  precious  box  had 
reposed  behind  the  lowered  leaf  of  the  table. 

Presently  Betty  slipped  back  into  her  room,  and, 
kneeling  in  the  sunshine,  prayed:  "Oh,  Lord,  we 
are  thankful  for  Christmas,  and  for  the  box,  and 
for  the  sunshine,  and  father  and  mother  and  Mary 
aud  Bobby.  Oh,  Lord,  we  are  thankful  for  every- 
thing, but  most,  for  the  good  lady  and  the  Christmas 
box!7' 

Rosamond  Livingstone  McNaught 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  23 

CHRISTMAS 

By  permission  of"  School  and  Home  Education,"  BloomingtoD,  111. 


OVER  the  hills  of  Palestine 
The  silver  stars  began  to  shine  ; 
Night  drew  her  shadows  softly  round 
The  slunib'riug  earth,  without  a  sound. 

Among  the  dewy  fields  and  rocks, 
The  shepherds  kept  their  quiet  flocks, 
And  looked  along  the  dark'ning  land 
That  waited  the  divine  command. 

When  lo  !  through  all  the  opening  blue, 
Far  up  the  deep,  dark  heavens  withdrew  ; 
And  angels  in  a  radiant  light 
Praised  God  through  all  the  list'ning  night. 

Again  the  sky  was  deep  and  dark  ; 
Each  star  relumed  his  silver  spark  ; 
The  dreaming  land  in  silence  lay 
And  waited  for  the  dawning  day. 

But,  in  a  stable  low  and  rude, 
Where  white-horned,  mild-eyed  oxen  stood. 
The  gates  of  heaven  were  still  displayed 
For  Christ  was  in  the  manger  laid. 


24  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

SHAMMY'S  CHRISTMAS  TREE 

By  permission  of  "The  Ladies'  World,"  New  York 


"TTTE  haven't  Elder  Hophui's  opinion  yet,"  said 

V  V  the  minister,  looking  dubiously  at  the  rugged, 
weather-beaten  face  opposite  him  and  then  around 
the  tiny  study  upon  the  seamed,  careworn  counte- 
nances of  Elders  Penney,  Sayre  and  Harkness. 
"We  haven't  Elder  Preston's  opinion  as  yet,  but 
undoubtedly  he  will  agree  with  us  that  we  sanction 
the — the  innovation." 

The  minister  smiled,  but  by  no  means  hopefully, 
and  removing  his  spectacles,  began  polishing  them 
with  his  handkerchief — a  sure  token  with  him  of 
mental  disturbance. 

Elder  Hophni  Preston,  who  had  been  ominously 
silent  all  through  the  meeting,  now  raised  his  bullet 
head  with  a  combative  air  which  the  meeting  under- 
stood only  too  well. 

"If  it's  a  Christmas  tree  for  the  Sunday-school 
you're  alludin'  to,  why  not  say  so  without  beatin' 
about  the  bush  ?  No,  I  don't  favor  no  innovations 
into  our  church,"  he  said  decidedly — "Christmas 
tree  in  the  house  of  worship  and  evergreen  festoonin' 
on  them  sacred  walls  !  I  tell  you,  bretheren,  you're 
on  the  wrong  track.  Leave  such  doin's  to  Papists 
and  'Piscopals  that  don't  know  no  better.  Fer  my 
part,  if  sech  counsels  is  to  prevail,  I  shell  resign  my 
eldership  and  go  jine  the  Bretheren.  There's  a 
growin'  number  of  'em  over  at  Ashawagh,  and  they 
think's  I  do,  fur  as  T  can  make  out." 

Silence — a  dubious  one— followed  this  lucid  state- 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  25 

merit.  The  clock  ticked  audibly,  and  somewhere 
upstairs  the  minister's  ninth  baby  cried — audibly 
too. 

The  minister  looked  ruefully  at  the  ceiling  and 
then  at  the  clock,  which  now  set  up  an  asthmatic 
whirring,  preparatory  to  striking,  ten.  The  session 
meeting  had  been  long. 

"I  think,"  remarked  the  minister  at  length,  with 
an  effort  at  being  both  truthful  and  diplomatic,  "I 
think  there  is  some  truth,  my  brethren,  in  the  re- 
marks  of  our  excellent  and  invaluable  brother.  I 
myself  feel  that  we  must  be  extremely  conservative 
in  dealing  with  this  matter,  but  my  poor  judgment 
is  that  we  must  progress  a  little  or — or  be  left," 
concluded  the  minister  rather  lamely. 

Assent  was  visible  in  every  face  but  one,  and 
Elder  Harkness  even  nodded  his  silvery- white  head 
in  approval  of  these  sentiments ;  but  Elder  Preston 
remained  firm. 

"It's  late  and  I  must  be  goin',"  he  said,  standing 
a  stern  figure  of  reproof  in  the  study  door.  "  I  tell 
ye,  bretheren,  I  can't  countenance  it.  You're  all 
ag'iu'  me,  as  usual,  but  I  must  see  my  knee  don't 
bow  to  Baal.  I  shan't  hev  no  part  nor  lot  into  it, 
and  Shamariah  Stubbs  Preston  shan't  go  to  no 
Christmas  trees,  nor  Tishy  neither.  If  they  want 
entertainment  let  'm  sing  hymns  to  hum — that's  the 
way  I  was  fetched  up.  and  see  where  I  be  now." 

Elder  Hophni  looked  around  once  again  for  some 
sign  of  agreement,  and  finding  none  went  out,  bang- 
ing two  doors  behind  him. 

Hophni  was  a  just  man,  who  intended  to  do  his 


26  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

full  duty,  and  he  treated  his  wife  as  well  as  he  knew 
how.  Tishy  had  all  the  butter  money  and  no  ques- 
tions asked,  even  when  her  husband  would  have 
found  it  a  great  convenience.  Twice  a  year  in  spite 
of  the  work  that  might  be  pressing  he  took  her  over 
to  Filerville  to  see  her  folks. 

If  Hophni  felt  ill,  which  was  seldom,  he  "  worked 
it  off,''  and  if  Tishy  sometimes  drooped  her  delicate 
head  like  a  breaking  lily,  he  recommended  to  her  the 
same  remedy. 

Hophni,  oddly  enough,  secretly  worshiped  his 
son,  who  had  come  after  many  childless  years ;  but 
this  affection  he  concealed  from  every  one,  even 
Tishy. 

The  mother  little  knew  how  the  stern  man's  heart 
could  melt  in  almost  womanish  tenderness  over  his 
one  treasure.  Hophni' s  caresses  were  lavished  only 
when  he  was  alone  with  his  boy.  Often  after  these 
yieldings  Elder  Preston  would  replace  the  child  in 
his  cradle  and  hasten  to  his  chamber,  where  alone 
before  God  he  would  confess  his  weakness  and  pray 
for  pardon.  For  in  Hophni' s  mind  natural  affection 
was  only  a  deadly  snare  for  the  soul — a  weakness  to 
be  conquered  at  any  cost  lest  it  lead  to  idolatry. 

So  as  the  boy  grew  older  the  father's  stolen  caresses 
ceased,  and  all  too  soon  the  sound  of  his  voice  would 
check  his  child's  infant  glee. 

"He  don't  care  a  snap  for  either  of  us,"  poor 
Tishy  said  bitterly  to  herself.  "  All  he  thinks  of  is 
his  crops  and  his  meetin's.  If  that's  religion,  I 
dunno's  I  want  it." 

"Why  don't  my  pa  ever  buy  me  any  playthings  ?" 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  27 

asked  Shammy  one  day  of  his  mother.  "All  the 
other  fellers  has  balls  and  games,  and  I  ain't  even 
got  a  jack-knife." 

''Your  pa  thinks  them  things  is  wrong,"  said 
Tishy  with  a  sigh.  "He's  afraid  they'll  lead  you 
astray,  Shammy." 

"  Pa's  awful  good,  ain't  he?"  said  Shammy, 
looking  up  under  Tishy' s  slat  sunbonnet  with  a 
pair  of  great  wistful  eyes. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  mother,  turning  aside  to  brush 
away  a  tear.  "Yes,  Shammy,  he  is  a  good  man. 
There  isn't  a  better  in  all  Jessups.  He's  a  rulin' 
elder,  and  respected  by  everybody.  He  expects  you 
to  grow  up  and  be  just  like  him." 

"I  wish  he  wasn't  quite  so  good,"  whimpered 
poor  Shammy,  thrusting  his  grimy,  hard  little  fists 
into  his  empty  pockets.  "Johnny  Clark's  father 
swears  awful,  and  he  gives  his  little  boy  tops  and 
kites  and  all  sorts  of  things,  and  hugs  him,  too.  I 
seen  him  myself." 

"There,  there,  darlin',  mother  feels  so  bad  to  see 
you  cry.  Come  in  and  I'll  give  you  a  piece  of 
plum-cake  and  tell  you  how  I  used  to  help  Uncle 
Fred  trim  the  Christmas  tree  over  in  Filerville,  and 
how  Santa  Clans  used  to  come  in  jinglin'  with  bells 
and  throw  us  all  oranges  and  bags  of  candy.  They 
say  they're  a  goin'  to  have  one  here  next  winter  for 
all  the  Sunday-school  scholars.  Won't  that  be 
nice  I" 

Shammy  dried  his  tears  at  this.  He  asked  in- 
numerable questions  about  the  tree — as  yet  only  a 
distant  dream — and  between  the  delights  of  present 


28  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

plum-cake   aud   prospective  Christmas  festivities, 
forgot  for  a  while  his  grievances. 

"I  guess  you'd  as  well  not  speak  about  it  before 
your  pa,"  the  mother  said  with  a  dim  presentiment 
of  trouble,  and  Shammy,  alas !  needed  no  second 
hint  on  that  score. 

%  %  *  ^  &  & 

"They're  determined  to  have  their  own  dis- 
obedient way  and  have  that  Christmas  tree,"  said 
the  elder,  looking  at  Tishy.  "I  told  'em  none  of 
my  folks  would  ever  have  any  such  thing  or  see  one 
long's  I  was  around  to  hender.  Shammy,  what's 
the  matter,  sir?" 

"  My  tea's  too  hot  and  burned  my  throat,"  said  the 
boy,  swallowing  a  big  sob,  while  two  tears  ran  down 
his  freckled  cheeks. 

"Pour  it  into  your  saucer  and  blow  it,  then. 
Come,  hurry  up.  Do  you  want  the  table  to  stand 
'round  all  night  for  you  f  " 

.  "I'm    through,"    said    Shammy,    clenching    his 
hands  under  the  table  and  breathing  hard. 

"Gh,  mother !"  with  a  howl  of  actual  agony  as 
the  door  closed  behind  Hophni.  "  I  can't  bear  it ; 
I  can't.  Why  won't  my  father  ever  let  me  do  any- 
thing I  want  to?" 

"There,  there,  Shammy!  I  declare  you  scare 
me.  What  makes  you  shake  so?  Why,  you'll 
make  mother  cry  too  if  you  go  on  like  this." 

"I  felt  sure  he'd  never  let  me  go,"  wailed  the 
disappointed  child.     "I  knew  it  all  the  while." 

"  There,  darling,  I  hope  you'll  try  and  not  go  on 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  29 

so  before  father.  Come,  go  get  the  basket  and  pick 
up  the  eggs.  Mebbe  I  can  coax  kini  yet.  Come, 
hurry,  or  they'll  all  be  froze  solid.  See  how  it's 
snowing  already." 

Shammy  went,  like  the  little  soldier  he  was. 
though  the  tempest  of  passion  was  Scarcely  stilled. 
He  found  the  big  barn  door  shut  and  fastened 
against  the  rising  storm,  but  the  door  of  the  cow- 
stables  was  banging  noisily  in  the  rising  wind.  In- 
side, the  cows  were  rattling  their  empty  meal- 
buckets  as  if  wondering  why  at  this  late  hour  they 
were  yet  unfed. 

"Where  can  he  be?"  thought  Shammy.  "I 
guess  he's  forgot  to  fodder.  I'll  jest  go  up  in  the 
mow  and  heave  down  some  stalks  to  keep  'em 
still." 

Shammy  slid  past  the  last  cow  in  the  row,  and  set- 
ting his  basket  on  a  barrel,  began  groping  his  way 
to  the  ladder. 

Half  way  up  the  ladder,  to  his  instant  thrill  of 
dismay,  a  voice  sounded  somewhere  above  him. 
Under  the  sloping  eaves,  it  seemed,  where  the  shad- 
ows lay  deepest.  Shammy  clung  to  his  perch, 
frozen  momentarily  into  stone.  It  was  indeed 
Hophni's  voice — so  much  the  child  presently  dis- 
covered— but  not  the  voice  his  family  knew.  The 
father  was  wrestling  alone  in  prayer  before  his  God. 

"  Oh,  Lord,"  pleaded  the  elder  in  tones  so  charged 
with  anguish  that  Shammy's  tears  began  flowing 
afresh,  "help  Thy  poor,  distressed  servant  to  stand 
firm.  Oh.  how  can  I  deny  my  child  this  thing  he 
so  desires?     Oh,  Thou  knowest  how  in  my  sinful 


so  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

heart  1  long  to  grant  him  all  his  un regenerate  nature 
demands.  Oh,  help  me  to  be  firm  and  deliver  me 
from  idolatry.     Help  me  to  love  only  Thee. 

"Oh,  how  can  I  ever  hope  for  pardon  when  I  love 
that  boy  better  than  my  own  soul  ?  Lord,  cut  not 
off  this  child  as  a  j udgment  upon  me.  I  cannot  help 
it.     I  cannot  help  it ! " 

The  voice  died  away  into  inarticulate  mutterings 
and  then  rose  again  in  more  piercing  supplications  ; 
but  Shammy  heard  no  more.  With  a  strange  awe 
and  terror  upon  him  the  child  stole,  a  shadow  among 
shadows,  down  the  ladder  and  out  into  the  white, 
eerie  night.  Amid  all  this  confusion  one  thing 
stood  out  clear — his  father  really  loved  him  after  all. 

Shammy  had  always  felt  a  secret  pride  in  his 
father.  Hophni's  immense  strength,  his  known  in- 
tegrity, his  honorable  position  in  his  little  world, 
all  filled  his  son's  heart  with  admiration.  And  now 
his  father  really  did  care  for  him,  Shammy  felt  al- 
most— not  quite,  for  he  was  only  a  little  boy — that 
now  he  could  renounce  Christmas  trees  forever. 

The  storm  furled  its  gray  banners  and  fled  away 
before  a  brisk  northwest  wind  ;  the  winter  sun  shone 
and  dazzled. 

Sleigh-bells  began  jingling  and  merry  laughter 
rang  through  the  crisp  December  air.  Only  in 
Shammy's  darkened  room  silence  reigned  and  heart- 
sick foreboding.  For  the  child  was  very  ill — so  ill 
that  as  the  days  went  by  his  case  seemed  uearly 
hopeless. 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  31 

Two  nights  before  Christinas  Hoplmi  sat  alone 
by  the  sick  boy,  while  Tishy  slept  the  heavy  sleep 
of  exhaustion  in  the  old  armchair  by  the  kitchen 
fire. 

"  If  I  could  only  jest  have  peeked  in  at  the  door 
at  it I"  moaned  Shammy.  "If  I  could  have  jest 
seen  it  a  minute  !  Oh,  my  throat — my  throat ! 
Father,  I  want  some  ice.  Don't  cry,  please ;  I  was 
only  wishin?  I  could  jest  have  peeked  in.  Would 
that  have  been  wicked?  I  never  seen  a  Christmas 
tree.  Ma,  tell  my  father  not  to  pray  so  loud.  I'll 
be  a  good  boy  if  he'll  only  stop ;  but  oh,  a  feller 
wants  a  pair  of  skates  so  bad  and  a  sled.  Oh,  dear, 
won't  it  never  be  mornin'  %  " 

"When  Tishy  waked  with  a  sudden  leap  of  terror 
into  full  consciousness,  she  saw  her  husband  draw- 
ing on  his  heavy  boots. 

"How's  Shammy?  How  could  you  let  me  sleep 
so  long  %    Ho  w  is  he  %  " 

' '  Wuss,  "said  Hophni,  grimly.  "  Go  in  and  take 
care  of  him.     I'm  goin'  up  inter  the  big  woods." 

"Goin'  up  into  the  big  woods  and  your' boy 
dyin'  ?  Hophni  Preston,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  yourself ! " 

"I  be  ashamed,"  groaned  Hophni.  "I  more'n 
ashamed.  I'm  a  lost,  condemned  sinner.  I'm 
goin'  inter  them  woods  to  cut  a  Christmas  tree. 
Shammy  shell  have  it  if  I  go  to  etarnal  torment  for 
it.  Xo,  Tishy,  don't  you  lay  a  hand  on  me  or  it'll 
be  all  day  with  ye." 

The  sun  was  just  rising  when  the  elder  came  buck 
dragging  behind  him  a  cedar-tree.     Tishy,  peeping 


3?  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

furtively  beneath  the  window-shade,  saw  her  hus 
baud  harness  the  double  team  and  without  entering 
the  house  drive  away  on  a  wild  gallop  down  the 
road  to  Sag  Harbor.  Somewhere  about  noon  a 
steaming,  panting  pair  of  horses  drew  up  before  Mr. 
Mi uter's  toy  shop  on  Main  Street. 

"I  want  some  stuff  for  a  Christmas  tree,"  de- 
manded Hophni,  crowding  up  to  the  counter.  "  I 
want  candles  and  trimmin's  and  a  sled  and  skates, 
and  jack-knives  and  dominoes  and  checkers,  and 
everything  else  a  boy  nine  year  old  could  use." 

The  saleswoman,  a  pretty  girl  with  fluffy  hair  and 
a  dimple  in  her  cheek,  looked  her  amazement  out  of 
her  wide  blue  eyes. 

"Come,  hurry  up!"  cried  Elder  Hophni.  "I 
kin  pay  cash,  so  don't  be  sca't.  You  put  up  the  stuff 
and  Mr.  Minter'  11  make  out  the  bill.  Young  woman, 
don't  look  at  me  as  if  I  was  crazy.  I  tell  you 
Shammy's  dyin'  of  diptheery,  and  if  I  don't  hurry 
it'll  be  too  late." 

»>  *.'*  4*  "&  *!*  'x* 

*f~,  *$•  ^»  *t*  *J*  t» 

"  There,"  said  the  elder,  drawing  a  deep  breath, 
11 1  guess  it's  about  ship-shape  at  last.  Light  the 
tapers,  Tishy.  I  wonder  if  the  sled  shows  plain 
from  the  bedroom  door.  I  hope  the  skates  will  fit 
all  right.  Tishy,  you'll  hev  to  pull  off  my  boot,  I 
guess.  I  slashed  me  with  the  axe  cuttin'  the  tree 
down,  and  I  guess  it's  stuck  on." 

So  saying,  Elder  Hophni  fainted  dead  away  beside 
the  lighted  Christmas  tree. 

When,   ages  later,   he  came  whirling  back,  he 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  33 

heard  Doctor  Pellet's  voice  far,  far  away.  "No, 
the  cut  ain't  so  bad,  Mis'  Preston,  though  he'll  be 
laid  up  a  spell,  I'm  afraid.  A  wonder  he  didn't 
bleed  to  death,  though." 

"Shammy,"  whispered  the  elder  through  his 
white  lips. 

"  Shammy's  all  right.  You  lay  still  i  When  we 
showed  him  the  tree  he  was  so  tickled  he  give  a 
screech.  Here,  drink  this  and  stop  your  crying.  I 
declare,  Hoppy,  I  thought  better  of  ye  ! ' ' 


A  fortnight  later  Elder  Preston  came  limping  in 
and  sat  down  in  his  wonted  place  in  the  prayer- 
meeting.  But  while  his  brethren  prayed  and  ex- 
horted, Hophni  sat  silent  and  sorrowful. 

"  We  haven't  heard  from  Elder  Preston  yet,"  said 
the  minister  at  length,  after  many  appealing  glances 
at  Hophni  had  failed  of  effect.  ' '  Come,  my  brother, 
let  us  have  your  testimony." 

Hophni  rose  with  painful  effort,  steadying  him- 
self by  the  back  of  the  seat  before  him. 

"No  testimony  from  me,"  he  said,  looking  de- 
spairingly around.  ' '  I  want  to  resign  my  eldership, 
for  I  ain't  fit  to  guide  no  man." 

Here  the  elder  paused  for  breath,  and  wiped  his 
damp  forehead  vigorously. 

"It's  all  along  of  that  Christmas  tree,"  he  went 
on  at  length.  "  I  said  I'd  resign  if  you  had  it ;  I 
little  thought  what  I'd  do  myself.  And  the  worst 
of  it  is" — here  Hophni  looked  about  impressively — 
"I  can't  repent.     My  heart  is  as  hard  as  Pharaoh's 


34  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

— as  unfeelin'  as  Elder  Harkness's  rnill-stun.  Why, 
when  I  try  to  repent  and  I  recall  how  my  boy 
Shamariah  looked  layin'  there  a  gaspin'  and  a 
moanin'  and  a  longin'  for  that  Christmas  tree,  and 
when  I  think  how — how  pitiful  he'd  look  up  at  me 
And  how  he'd  put  them  little  burnin'  hands  on  my 
cheek  and  tell  me  not  to— not  to — cry" — here 
Hoplmi  began  to  weep  aloud — "when  I  think  of 
them — them  circumstances  I'm — glad  I  done  as  I 
did.  I  know  iu  my  unfeelin',  impenitent  soul  I 
should  do  it  right  over  again.  Yes,  I'm  glad  I  hung 
all  them  worldly  trinkets  onto  it,  and  I  wish  I'd 
done  it  years  before  I  did.  Now  turn  me  out,  for 
I'm  fell  too  deep  for  repentance." 

Hophni  fell  back  in  his  place  and  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands. 

By  and  by  the  minister  rose  and  said  in  a  trem- 
bling voice:  "Friends,  let  us  give  thanks  to  our 
Heavenly  Father,  who  sent  a  little  child  to  lead  us 
all  to  Him,  and  especially  let  us  praise  Him  for  this 
friend  whom  He  has  so  blessed  with  tenderness  and 
humility,  for  of  such,  indeed,  is  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven." 

Eliza  Evans  Cartwbight 


THE  DISCONTENTED  FIR  TREE 


A  FIR  TREE  stood,  'mid  ice  and  snow, 
As  Christmas  time  drew  near  ; 
And,  in  its  branches,  sang  a  bird, 
So  loud  that  all  could  hear  : 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  35 

:i  Oh,  wave  your  branches  proudly  now  ! 
Be  merry  while  you  can  ; 
For  one  of  you  shall  be  laid  low 
When  conies  the  Christmas  Man  ! 

"  "When  decked  with  balls  and  popcorn  strings 
And  all  aglow  with  light ; 
Your  branches  hung  with  pretty  toys, — 
You'll  be  a  wondrous  sight ! 

M  But  when  the  merriment  has  ceased, 
And  you  are  stripped  and  bare, 
Admiring  eyes  will  turn  away, 
And  leave  you  standing  there." 

The  fir-trees  murmured,  "  Oh— oh— oh ! 

We  do  not  want  to  go. 
We'd  rather  keep  our  place  amid 

December's  ice  and  snow." 

But  one,  a  foolish  little  tree, 

Sighed  to  itself:  "  Oh,  dear  I 
I  know  I'm  very  beautiful, 

And  no  one  sees  me  here. 

u  And  if  I  cannot  be  admired, 
What  use  to  live  at  all  ? 
Oh,  let  me  have  a  glimpse  of  life ! 
Then  I'm  content  to  fall." 

So  when  the  ruthless  Christmas  Man 

Came  with  his  axe  one  day, 
The  little  fir-tree  thrilled  with  pride 

To  hear  the  childien  say  : 


36  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

"Oh,  here  is  just  the  tree  we  want !  " 
And  soon  the  axe  began 
Its  yearly  song  of:  "  Come — come — be — 
The  vic-tim  of — the  Christ- mas  Man  ! " 

The  people  called  it  beautiful. 

And  saug  and  laughed  in  glee. 
With  things  that  glittered  like  the  stars 

They  dressed  the  little  tree. 

But  by  and  by  a  merry  throng 

Began  to  pull  and  tear  !  — 
Almost  before  the  tree  could  think, 

It  stood  with  branches  bare  ! 

In  vain  it  sighed  for  just  a  glauce 
From  those  same  girls  and  boys 

Who  said  :  "Here's  just  the  tree  we  want, 
On  which  to  hang  our  toys !  " 

They  didn't  even  shed  a  tear 

When  papa  came  next  day, 
And  piled  it  on  the  rubbish  heap 

To  wither  and  decay. 

Ah  !     If  the  foolish  tree  had  been 

Contented  with  God's  plan, 
It  might  have  graced  the  forest  yet, 

Safe  from  the  Christmas  Man. 

Eosamond  Livingstone  McNaught 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  37 

A  POOR  HOUSE  CHRISTMAS 

By  permission  of  "  Tue  Ladies'  World,"  New  York 


"  God  rest  ye,  merry  gentlemen, 
Let  nothing  you  dismay, 
For  Jesus  Christ,  your  Saviour, 
Was  born  on  Christmas  Day." 

SAXG  a  little,  bent  old  woman,  aiid  her  voice, 
though  still  sweet,  was  tremulous  with  age  or 
weakness. 

There  were  several  other  womeu  iu  the  room,  all 
old,  aud  with  the  exception  of  one  all  were  busy 
sewing  or  knitting. 

The  idler  had  drawn  her  chair  close  to  the  air-tight 
stove,  aud  with  discontent  written  in  every  line  of 
her  wrinkled  face,  was  moodily  watching  the  singer 
as  she  fashioned  a  rag  doll  from  bits  of  cloth  and 
cottou  batting,  her  dissatisfaction  becoming  each  mo- 
ment more  apparent. 

"  I  declare,  Mis'  Barker,  I  don't  see  how  you  c'n 
feel  like  singin',"  she  exclaimed  at  length. 

Mrs.  Barker  turned  toward  her  a  surprised  face, 
as  she  replied,  "Why,  Sister  Lane,  to-morrow  will 
be  Christ's  birthday." 

The  other  smiled  grimly.  "  Yes,  an'  you  an'  I 
are  goiu'  to  keep  it  in  the  '  Poor  House  ! '  " 

Mrs.  Barker  cast  a  troubled  glance  at  the  speaker 
and  tli« -11  her  eyes  wandered  around  the  bare,  clean 
room,  which  had  no  superfluous  furniture  to  hide 
its  angles.  Finally  her  face  cleared  as  she  said, 
gently,  "There  arc  worse  place-,  in  the  world,  and 
He  had  'not  where  to  lay  His  head.'  " 


38  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

Presently  Mrs.  Lane  lifted  a  breadth  of  the  "all 
wool   delaine"   from  which  the  doll  dresses  were 
being  fashioned. 

"That's  real  pretty  stuff,"  she  said,  as  she  scruti- 
nized the  fabric. 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,"  and  Mrs.  Barker  smoothed  the 
bit  she  held  in  her  hand  and  looked  dreamily  at  its 
creamy  whiteness,  dotted  with  tiny  bunches  of  blue 
violets,  as  she  added :  "  I  had  this  dress  the  year  arfter 
I  was  married.  Pa  bought  it  'cause  he  said  them 
vi'lets  were  jest  the  color  o'  my  eyes,"  and  a  faint 
blush  stole  into  the  soft  old  cheeks.  "Sammy  liked 
it,  too,  an'  long  ago  as  he  was  a  little  feller,  jest 
learnin'  to  talk,  he'd  say,  'Pitty,  pitty!'  an'  clap 
his  hands  ev'ry  time  I  put  it  on.  When  he  got  big- 
ger he  called  it  my  '  flower  dress,'  an'  liked  to  hev 
me  wear  it  after  he  was  a  great  big  boy.  I've  alius 
been  real  ch'ice  of  it,  but  it  wore  out  at  last,  an'  I've 
kept  the  pieces  all  these  years  for  pa's  an'  Sammy's 
sakes.  I  d'  know  but  I'  ve  been  makin'  kind  of  an 
idol  of 'em,  an'  I  guess  I'm  doin'  the  right  thing 
now  passin'  'em  along  to  make  someone  else  happy. 
I  know  it's  what  pa  an'  Sammy' d  want  me  to  do,  for 
they  was  both  master  fond  of  childun." 

Mrs.  Lane  watched  her  a  few  moments  in  silence, 
and  then  said,  interrogatively  :  ' '  How  long  is' t  sence 
your  husband  died  ?  " 

"Goin'  on  nineteen  years,"  was  the  reply. 

"  I  s'pose  Sammy's  dead,  tool " 

"  Yes,"  and  a  spasm  of  pain  passed  over  the  gen- 
tle old  face.  "Sammy  went  fust,  an'  'twas  that 
killed  his  pa."     Theu,  seeing  the  interest  in  her  lis- 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  39 

teners  face,  she  continued  :  "  The  year  afore  he  died, 
Sammy,  who  was  jest  turned  eighteen,  took  it  into 
his  head  to  go  West  an'  see  his  Uncle  Jim.  Jim  was 
my  brother,  an'  lived  on  a  big  farm — a  ranch,  he 
called  it — an'  nothin'  to  do  but  Sammy  must  visit 
him.  I  hated  to  hev  him  go  the  wust  way,  but  pa 
kind  o'  favored  it,  so  I  gin  in.  He  got  there  all 
right,  an'  writ  home  what  a  good  time  he  was  hevin' 
an'  then  the  next  news  we  had,  there'dbeeu  an  Injun 
raid,  an'  he  an'  his  Uncle  Jim  was  both  killed.  I 
lived  through  it,  though  I  thought  then  my  heart  was 
broke,  an'  as  for  pa,  he  couldn't  be  reconciled  to  it, 
but  jest  pined  an'  pined  for  Sammy  till  he  died  a 
few  months  arfter.  With  pa  an'  Sammy  both  gone,  I 
couldn't  bear  to  stay  in  the  old  place,  so  I  sold  out 
an'  come  out  here  to  Iowy.  I  planned  to  live  with 
Cousin  John  Forbes  an'  his  wife,  but  before  I'd  been 
here  a  month  both  died,  an'  then  the  bank  that  had 
my  money  bu'st  up,  an'  I  had  to  work  hard  to  keep 
soul  an'  body  together.  I  thought  then  'twas  pretty 
hard,  but  I  see  now  'twas  the  best  thing  that  could 
happen,  for  it  kind  o'  took  me  out  o'  myself,  an'  I 
found  I  wa'n't  the  only  one  in  the  world  with  trials. 
I  got  along  real  well  till  a  year  ago,  when  this  rheu- 
matiz  come  on  me,  an'  I  had  to  give  up  an'  come 
here,  where  it  looks  as  if  I  sh'll  hev  to  stay  the 
rest  o'  my  nat'ral  life.  But  Mis'  Mahew's  a  real 
good  woman,  an'  Mr.  Mahew  treats  us  well,  so  I've 
no  cause  to  complain,  an'  'twon't  be  for  long,  any- 
way." 

Christmas  morning  dawned  clear,  crisp  and  cold. 
Mr.   Mahew  came  home  at  noon,  full  of  excitement. 


4o  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

The  Governor  was  in  town,  and  was  coming  to  iit 
spect  the  "  Farm"  that  afternoon. 

There  was  some  bill  relating  to  paupers  before  the 
Legislature,  and  before  signing  it  he  determined  to 
see  for  himself  how  they  were  treated. 

Mr.  Mahew  put  up  his  horse  and  went  through 
the  barns  and  outbuildings,  to  make  sure  they  were 
in  order,  while  Mrs.  Mahew  made  a  tour  of  the 
house  and  congratulated  herself  upon  the  fact  that 
everything  was  as  "neat  as  a  pin." 

They  went  through  the  barns  first,  and  then  en- 
tering the  house  were  duly  presented  to  Mrs.  Mahew, 
who  undertook  to  pilot  them  through  her  domain. 

"Very  good!  Very  praiseworthy,  my  dear 
madam,"  murmured  the  Senator  from  the  district 
who  accompanied  the  party  ;  and  the  others  echoed 
his  praises. 

But  the  Governor  was  silent,  and  looking  at  him 
for  some  sign  of  approval,  Mrs.  Mahew  saw  that  he 
was  staring  at  the  tree,  with  eyes  that  saw  nothing 
else,  while  his  face  worked  strangely,  and  half  un- 
consciously his  hand  stroked  the  dress  of  the  near- 
est doll. 

"Where  did  you  get  this  1"  he  asked  at  length 
in  a  hushed  voice  as  he  pointed  to  the  doll's  dress. 

' '  One  of  the  women  made  it  from  an  old  dress  of 
her  own,"  replied  Mrs.  Mahew,  wondering  what  it 
all  meant. 

"Can  I  see  her?" 

"  Why,  certainly  ;  but  she's  pretty  bad  with  rheu- 
matism, and  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to  go  to  her." 

The  Governor  nodded,   and  still  holding  the  doll 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  41 

in  his  Land,  followed  her  through  a  long  corridor  to 
the  general  sitting-room,  where  the  inmates  were  all 
assembled. 

There  was  a  nutter  of  skirts  as  he  entered,  and 
eaeh  one  dropped  her  best  courtesy  ;  but  with  a 
grave  bow,  which  included  all,  he  passed  them  with- 
out a  word  and  made  his  way  to  the  farther  end  of 
the  room  where  Mrs.  Barker  was  seated. 

The  others  pressed  a  little  nearer,  but  Mrs.  Mahew, 
although  herself  burning  with  curiosity,  motioned 
them  back  as  she  said  :  "Mrs.  Barker,  his  excellency, 
the  Governor,  would  like  to  speak  with  you." 

"Don't  rise,  madam." 

It  was  the  Governor's  deep  voice  that  said  this, 
and  the  old  woman  who  had  tried  to  stand,  fell  back 
with  a  stifled  moan  of  pain,  while  she  looked  curi- 
ously at  the  bearded  face  above  her. 

"lam  told  you  made  this  dress." 

The  Governor's  voice  was  husky  now,  and  had 
dropped  almost  to  a  whisper,  as  he  pointed  to  the 
gay  flowered  gown  of  the  doll  in  his  hand. 

"I  did." 

"May  I  ask  where  you  obtained  the  material?" 

"  My  husband  bought  it  for  me  a  good  many  years 
ago,  when  I  was  a  young  woman,"  she  said  with  a 
sigh,  "and  I've  kept  it  because  he  liked  it ;  an' 
Sammy — thai  was  my  boy — thought  so  much  of  it." 

"  And  always  liked  to  see  his  mother  in  her  pretty 
'  flower-gown,'  "  cried  the  Governor,  the  tears  chas- 
ing each  other  down  his  cheeks. 

"Oh,  mother!  mother!  mother!"  and  now  he 
was  on  his  knees,  with  his  head  in  her  lap. 


42  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

She  looked  piteously  from  one  to  another  of  the 
group  about  her. 

"  What  does  he  mean  f  "  she  asked.  "  Sammy's 
dead  !     There's  no  one  to  call  me  mother  !  " 

The  Governor  lifted  his  head  and  drew  her 
face  down  so  that  he  could  look  into  her  eyes. 
"Mother,  don't  you  know  Sammy?"  he  said  ear- 
nestly. 

She  shook  her  head.  "  Sammy's  dead  ! "  she  re- 
iterated. 

"  No  ;  no,  dear,"  he  cried.  "  It  was  all  a  mistake. 
Uncle  Jim  was  killed,  but  I  am  alive  to  love  and 
care  for  you  the  rest  of  your  life." 

There  was  much  to  explain,  and  when  they  were 
calmer,  she  learned  that  he  had  been  captured  by 
the  Indians,  who  had  treated  him  kindly,  and  after 
three  years  given  him  his  freedom. 

His  first  thought  then  had  been  for  his  father  and 
mother,  and  he  learned  that  his  father  was  dead, 
and  his  mother  gone,  no  one  knew  where.  In  vain 
he  advertised,  and  after  years  of  searching  for  her, 
had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  she,  too,  was  dead. 

But  the  long  years  of  loneliness  and  poverty  were 
over  for  her  now,  and  they  would  never  be  parted 
again. 

"  You  are  going  home  with  me,"  he  said.  "I  shall 
take  you  as  my  best  Christmas  present  to  niy  wife 
and  babies." 

Lizzie  M   Hadley 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  43 

STAK  OF  THE  EAST 

By  permission  of  "  School  aud  Home  Education,"  Bloomington,  111. 


BEAUTIFUL  Star,  that  dawned  in  the  Orient, 
Shedding  thy  light  011  the  desert's  loue  way, 
Led  by  thy  brightness,  we,  too,  would  come  bringing 

Our  gifts,  magi-like,  in  the  manger  to  lay. 
Gladly  we  offer  our  choicest  of  treasures, 

Seeking,  with  these,  our  allegiance  to  prove  ; 
But  our  gems  and  our  myrrh,  our  gold  and  frankin- 
cense, 
Are  offered  in  vain  if  not  offered  in  love. 

Beautiful  Star,  that  with  mystical  arrow 

Told  where  a  King  was  enthroned  in  a  stall, — 
Oh,  fair  are  the  orbs  shining  nightly  above  us, 

But  Thou,  in  Thy  splendor,  excellest  them  all. 
Shine  on  in  the  darkness,  bright  herald  of  morning  5 

Shine  on  down  the  ages  with  lustre  undimmed, 
Still  loading  the  way  to  the  sweet  Son  of  Mary, 

Till    through    the  wide    world    hallelujahs    are 
hymned. 

Mary  B.  Sleight 


THE  GIFT  OF  THE  KIND  HEART 

By  permission  of  "The  Ladies'  World,"  New  York 


IX  the  long  ago  there  lived  in  a  village  a  little  girl 
by  the  name  of  Huldah.     Her  father  was  a  poor 
day-laborer,  who  had  to  depend  on  yesterday's  work 


44  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

for  to-day's  food.  One  day  the  father  came  home 
ill,  then  Want  came  in  and  sat  down  by  the  sick 
man's  bedside.  The  mother  did  all  she  could  do  to 
drive  Want  away  ;  but,  if  she  forced  him  out  at  the 
door,  he  came  in  at  the  window.  At  last  the 
mother,  too,  fell  ill,  and  then  Despair  took  his  seat  by 
the  side  of  Want. 

Want  and  Despair,  these  were  strong  foes  for  a 
weak  girl  to  fight,  but  Huldah  had  courage  and 
love,  powerful  weapons,  even  in  a  child's  hands; 
and,  for  a  time,  she  managed  to  secure  food  and 
other  actual  necessities  for  her  parents,  though  she 
herself  often  went  hungry.  But,  at  length,  there 
came  a  morning  when  there  was  not  a  mouthful  of 
food  in  the  house ;  and,  for  the  first  time,  Despair 
crept  near  to  little  Huldah.  She  thought  not  of 
herself,  though  she  had  not  tasted  food  for  nearly 
twenty-four  hours ;  she  only  thought  of  her  sick 
father  and  mother.  She  knew  that  they  must  have 
food  soon  or  perish. 

It  was  a  cold  wintry  day,  the  day  before  Christ- 
mas, but  Huldah  wrapped  her  mother's  tattered 
shawl  around  her  head  and  shoulders;  and,  after 
kissing  her  father  and  mother  good-bye,  telling  them 
she  would  bring  a  bowl  of  warm  broth  back  with 
her,  she  went  out  to  try  to  earn  a  few  pennies  with 
which  to  purchase  food.  The  wind  blew  through 
the  holes  in  her  shawl  and  thin  clothing,  and  drove 
the  snow  with  blinding  force  against  her  face.  All 
day  long,  through  the  cold  and  the  storm,  she  wan- 
dered from  house  to  house,  growing  colder  and 
weaker  as  the  day  grew  older  ;  yet  finding  no  work. 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  45 

Night  came  and  compelled  her  to  turn  her  steps 
homeward,  still  empty-handed.  She  was  so  weary 
from  the  toils  of  the  day,  so  weak  from  the  lack  of 
food,  and  so  numb  with  the  cold,  that  she  could 
hardly  place  one  foot  in  front  of  the  other,  and 
staggered  along  through  the  snow  like  a  drunken 
man. 

Suddenly,  from  out  the  darkness  and  snow  to  the 
front  of  her,  rushed  a  giant  form,  clothed  in  a  great 
fur  coat.  Huldah  gave  a  little  frightened  cry, 
jumped  to  one  side,  slipped  on  a  stone,  and  fell  al- 
most under  the  feet  of  the  hurrying  man. 

"Heigh,  ho!  What  have  we  here?"  and  a 
strong  hand  quickly  caught  the  fallen  girl  and  set 
her  on  her  feet.  "A  mite  of  a  lassie  !  And  alone 
in  the  cold  and  the  storm  ! "  The  blue  eyes  looked 
searchingly  into  Huldah's  face,  while  the  great  bear- 
skin  gloves  on  the  hands  gently  brushed  the  snow 
off  the  tattered  shawl  and  thin  clothes. 

Evidently  the  man  was  in  a  great  hurry,  but  he 
stopped  long  enough  to  pull  off  one  of  the  gloves, 
thrust  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  and  place  a  silver 
coin  in  the  girl's  hand.  Then  with  a  loud  "Good- 
bye, little  one,"  he  rushed  on,  and  vanished  in  the 
darkness  and  falling  snow. 

Huldah  stared  at  the  coin  in  her  hand,  her  pale 
face  flushed — she  had  never  accepted  charity,  and 
she  started  after  the  vanishing  man.  But  before  she 
had  taken  five  steps  he  had  gone  from  her  sight. 
She  could  not  return  the  money.  It  was  hers. 
Again  her  face  flushed  and  her  eyes  sparkled,  and 
she  ran  as  last  as  her  weary  feet  could  carry  her  to  a 


46  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

small  bakery,  which  was  but  three  rods  from  hoi 
own  home.  After  all,  the  father  and  mother  would 
have  the  warm  broth  ! 

The  baker  took  the  mouey,  looked  at  Huldah, 
aud  theu  poured  into  a  large  bowl  a  double  portion 
of  broth.     He  had  a  little  girl  of  his  owu. 

Huldah  gripped  the  bowl  iu  both  hands  and  hur- 
ried away.  How  delicious  the  broth  smelled  !  How 
comfortable  the  warm  sides  of  the  bowl  felt  to  her 
cold  hands !  She  was  quite  sure  the  hot  broth 
would  make  her  father  and  mother  well  again 

"Oh!" 

The  bowl  of  precious  broth  nearly  fell  from  Hul- 
dah's  hands  in  her  fright.  Eight  down  in  front  of 
her  a  poor  man  had  fallen,  headlong,  and  lay  on  the 
ground  moaning.  He  was  very  old.  A  few  thin 
locks  of  white  hair  hung  from  under  his  worn  fur 
cap,  and  his  white  wrinkled  face  was  drawn  and 
quivering  with  pain.  His  clothes  were  old  and 
ragged.  He  had  no  shoes,  but  around  his  feet  were 
tied  bags  of  sheepskin. 

"For  the  love  of  heaven,  give  me  food  and  fire ! " 
called  the  old  man. 

The  cry  went  straight  to  Huldah' s  heart.  She 
stopped  and  approached  him  timidly,  until  she  saw 
the  pitiful  condition  he  was  in,  theu  her  compassion 
drove  out  all  her  fear. 

He  was  so  weak  he  could  only  lift  his  thin 
wrinkled  hands  toward  Huldah,  and  repeat:  "For 
the  love  of  heaven,  give  me  food  and  fire!"  His 
pinched  face  and  sunken  eyes  told  her  that  he  was 
starving.     She  was  wise  enough  to  know  that  the 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  47 

hunger  and  cold  would  soon  kill,  unless  food  and 
fire  drove  them  away.  She  Lad  the  food  in  her  hands, 
and  there  was  fire  in  her  home.  But  her  father  and 
mother !  Alas,  they,  too,  were  hungry  !  Yet  the 
need  of  the  old  man  was  even  greater  than  their 
need.  She  held  his  life  in  the  bowl  in  her  hand, 
and  he  so  old  and  helpless  ! 

There  were  tears  in  Huldah's  eyes,  as  she  knelt 
by  the  side  of  the  old  man  and  gave  him  the  broth. 
He  ate  it  greedily  ;  ate  until  every  drop  was  gone. 

"Now  for  the  fire!"  she  said,  cheerily,  and 
helped  him  to  his  feet. 

The  warm  broth  had  given  him  new  vigor,  yet  he 
leaned  so  heavily  on  Huldah  that  the  little  strength 
remaining  into  her  was  taxed  to  its  uttermost  5  but, 
at  last,  her  hand  was  on  the  latch  to  the  door  of 
her  humble  home,  and  she  led  him  in. 

"He  was  starving,  father,  and  I  gave  him  the 
bowl  of  broth.  He  was  freezing,  mother,  and  I 
brought  him  to  our  fire." 

The  sick  father  and  mother  smiled.  "Thank 
God  for  giving  our  daughter  the  gift  of  the  kind 
heart, ' '  they  said.  ' '  Brighten  up  the  fire,  and 
make  comfortable  the  old  man.  God  will  take  care 
of  us." 

Huldah  heaped  wood  on  the  glowing  coals,  and 
soon  the  fire  was  blazing  merrily.  She  made  the 
old  man  as  comfortable  as  possible,  and  then,  going 
to  her  mother,  she  lay  down  wearily  by  her  side  and, 
throwing  her  sums  around  her  neck,  murmured, 
"Mother,  mother,  1  am  so  tired  and  hungry!" 

The    mother    kissed    her.      "Let    us    pray,    my 


48  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

daughter,  for  the  old  man,  who  hath  so  much  more 
need  of  the  kiud  God's  succor  than  we." 

When  the  prayer  was  finished  the  old  man  arose 
slowly  to  his  feet.  Huldah  watched  him  with  won- 
dering eyes.  His  form  swelled  into  the  fulness  of 
health.  He  shook  the  rags  from  off  him,  and  stood 
in  the  bright  firelight  a  towering  giant  in  a  great 
fur  coat.  Huldah  at  once  recognized  the  man  she 
had  met  in  the  storm  and  who  had  given  her  the 
silver  coin.  The  blue  eyes  looked  into  her  face  ; 
and,  as  they  looked,  the  countenance  became  radiant, 
the  great  fur  coat  changed  into  a  robe  of  the  purest 
whiteness,  and  a  light  filled  the  room  of  so  dazzling 
a  brightness  that  all  were  compelled  to  close  their 
eyes. 

When  they  opened  their  eyes  again  the  glorious 
form  had  vanished. 

Then  the  parents  knew  that  an  angel  had  visited 
their  humble  home. 

On  the  spot  where  the  old  man  had  reposed  stood 
the  two  bags  of  sheepskin,  which  he  had  wrapped 
around  his  feet.  Huldah  approached  reverently, 
and  attempted  to  lift  them.  The  bags  broke  open, 
and  a  stream  of  gold  coins  fell  on  the  floor. 

"God  is  good.  Thank  God  for  giving  our  little 
daughter  the  gift  of  the  kind  heart,"  softly  prayed 
the  awed  father  and  mother. 

Then  Want  and  Despair  went  out  of  the  door 
and  never  came  back  for  Joy  and  Peace  came  in 
with  the  Christmas  Day. 

Everett  McNeil 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  49 

CHRISTMAS  AND  THE  OLD  YEAR 


I)  ING  softly,  bells,  your  message  sweet ; 
X)      Ob,  winter  winds,  breathe  low  your  song ; 
For  Christmas  casts  her  gems  away, 
With  farewell  kisses,  to  the  throng. 

A-down  tbe  snowy  path  she  comes, 
And  takes  the  Old  Year's  trembling  hand ; 

And  swift  and  light  tbe  snowflakes  weave 
A  veil  around  them,  as  tbey  stand. 

His  robe  is  stiff  with  frozen  sleet ; 

His  locks  to  sbreds  of  white  are  cast 
By  rushing  wind,  as  on  he  goes 

To  drift  into  the  misty  Past. 

Ob,  trees,  bend  low  !  a  crown  is  dropped, 
The  gift  our  old  friend  leaves  the  new  — 

Stern  Father  Time  holds  wide  the  gate, 

And  Christmas  leads  the  Old  Year  through. 
Rosamond  Livingstone  McNaugkt. 


A  WORD  TO  SANTA  CLAUS 

Ay  permission  of"  School  and  Home  Education,"  Bloomiugton,  I1L. 


DEAR  Santa,  lean  your  ear  this  way  ; 
I  want  you  to  remember 
A  boy  who  lives  next  door  to  me, 
When  you  come  tbis  December. 


5o  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

1 

*j3  He's  always  good  when  he's  in  school, 

Aud  always  kind  at  play, 

And  when  he's  out  of  school,  he  helps 

His  mother,  every  day. 

His  father  died  a  year  ago, 

Arid  they  are  very  poor  ; 
Last  Christmas,  when  I  showed  my  gifts, 

(I  had  a  score,  or  more), 

I  said  :  "  Now  show  your  gifts  to  me, 
Your  books  and  all  your  toys  ; " 

He  said  :  "  Oh,  Santa  Claus  is  not 
Acquainted  with  poor  boys." 

So  I  would  like  to  introduce 

My  friend,  across  the  way, 
And  will  you  not  remember  him 

When  you  come  Christmas  Day  1 

And  if  you  have  not  toys  enough, 
Then  why  not  pass  the  door 

Of  all  of  us  who  have  so  much, 
And  give  some  to  the  poor? 


JOEY'S  CHEISTMAS 


JOEY  was  an  orphan ;  and  alas !  a  cripple  from 
birth.  At  the  death  of  his  mother,  following 
three  months  after  that  of  his  father,  Joey  had  been 
taken  to  the  home  of  his  Aunt  Matt,  who  had,  in 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  51 

her  way,  been  very  good  to  him.  But  with  nine 
children  of  her  own,  and  not  as  many  dollars  per 
week  coming  in,  she  found  it  difficult  to  keep  her 
own  fed  and  clothed,  and  properly  patched,  without 
caring  for  an  extra;  so  Joey  was  sent  to  the  Home. 
But  the  Home  rules  were  rigid,  and  Joey  was  a 
free-born,  independent  little  body,  so  he  slipped 
away,  and  on  this  gloomy,  wet  day,  stood  in  front 
of  a  bakery  window,  wishing  he  were  a  man — wish- 
ing he  were  back  at  Aunt  Malt's,  eating  with  the 
nine  noisy,  do-as- you-please  children,  who  had  each 
other  for  company — wishing  it  would  quit  raining — 
wishing  everything ;  and  as  no  wish  came  true,  or 
seemed  likely  to  come  true  for  a  long  time,  Joey 
was  in  damp  spirits — in  a  damp  state  generally. 
His  feet  went  sqush,  sqush,  in  his  wet  shoes  when- 
ever he  took  a  step.  Even  the  pockets  into  which 
he  thrust  his  little  bare  hands  were  damp. 

It  had  rained  almost  steadily  for  a  week — not  a 
very  pleasant  outlook  for  Christmas,  surely.  For 
that  matter,  Christmas  hadn't  a  very  pleasant  out- 
look to  Joey,  anyways  Who  was  there  to  give 
Christmas  gifts  to  him,  or  for  him  to  give  Christinas 
gifts  to!  He  might  buy  some  for  the  nine  cousius  ; 
but  no,  that  was  too  many,  and  it  would  cost  some- 
thing to  send  them.  And  Joey  had  only  ninety- 
five  cents,  and  must  save  that  until  he  could  earn 
more. 

A  lady  passed,  leading  a  boy  dressed  in  brown 
velvet.  Her  arms  were  full  of  parcels — gifts  for  the 
boy  in  brown  velvet,  Joey  supposed.  The  boy  had 
some  parcels,  too.     Perhaps  flny  were  for  his  mother 


52  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

and  father,  or — perhaps  for  a  dear  little  sister ! 
Joey  wished  he  had  a  little  sister.  He  would  buy 
her — yes,  he  would  buy  her  that  great  big  doll  in 
the  window  opposite.  And  if  he  had  a  mother,  he 
would  buy  her  that  pretty  blue  hat  with  a  bird  on 
it  !  How  must  it  feel  to  have  a  mother  and  a  sister, 
he  wondered. 

Just  then  a  big,  burly,  half-drunken  fellow  came 
along,  and,  as  Joey  turned  to  move  away,  the 
drunken  man  grabbed  him  and  threw  him  on  the 
pavement, 

"What  you  doin',  you  little  water-rat?  Don't 
you  know  enough  to  go  in  when  it  rains?  What's 
your  name?  Now  don't  give  me  uone  of  your 
sass  ! " 

Poor,  frightened  Joey  began  to  cry,  for  which  he 
was  receiving  a  severe  cuffing,  when  a  policeman 
came  upon  the  scene.  Underneath  his  coat  of  blue 
and  austere  bearing,  the  policeman  bore  a  heart  that 
a  boy  might  know  and  love,  and  Joey  knew  the 
benefactor's  heart  and  loved  him,  as  his  gruff  voice 
cried  : 

' '  Hold,  there  !  Now  clear  out  of  this  in  a  hurry, 
or  there'll  be  trouble  !  "  and  then  turned  and  lifted 
little  miserable,  tearful  Joey  out  of  the  wet,  and 
asked  ; — oh,  in  such  a  different  voice  from  that  used 
to  the  ruffian  :  "Why  don't  you  go  home,  child?'' 
And  the  tears  flowed  afresh  as  Joey  sobbed  :  "I 
ain't  got — no — home  !  " 

"Where  do  you  sleep?"  asked  the  policeman. 

"  In  there,"  pointing  to  an  open  stairway  that  led 
"ap — no  one  could  tell  where. 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  53 

"Do  you  have  anything-  to  eatt"  continued  the 
questioner. 

"  I've  got  ninety-five  cents,"  answered  Joey,  "but 
I'm  keepin'  that  for  a  Christmas  dinner  to-morrow. 
I  got  it  cleanin'  walks.  I'm  goin'  to  clean  some 
more  when  some  more  mud  gets  on  'em." 

"Where  will  you  get  your  Christmas  dinner?" 

"At  Swan's.  But  it  costs  a  lot,  and  that's  why 
I'm  keepin'  it  all.  Oh,  there'll  be  turkey,  an'  cran- 
berries, an'  dressin',  an?  pie,  an'  cake,  an'  puddin', 
an'  ice-cream,  an'  everything  !  Black  Tom  said  so. 
Black  Tom's  dinner  don't  cost  him  anything  every 
day,  because  he  works  there.  My !  I  wish  I'  d 
hurry  an'  get  big  enough  to  work  there,  and  have 
such  dinners  every  day  ! " 

The  policeman  looked  down  at  the  mite  of  a  boy, 
and  thought — if  Joey  didn't  get  something  to  eat,  ho 
never  would  be  much  bigger. 

It  was  near  supper  time,  and  he  patted  Joey's 
head,  and  said:  "Good-bye;  better  run  to  your 
stairway,  and  not  stay  out  in  the  wet." 

Arriving  home,  Officer  McCounell  found  the  young 
McDonnells  in  a  state  of  high  glee.  The  tree  was 
being  prepared  in  the  parlor  by  Mrs.  McCounell  and 
Nora.  Little  Mary  could  do  nothing  but  squeal. 
Johnny  had  to  be  pulled  away  from  the  keyhole 
over  and  over.  As  Officer  McCounell  watched  liis 
little  son  jumping  around  the  room,  slapping  his 
thighs  and  crying:  "There's  a  hobby  horse,  and  a 
drum,  and  a  rabbit,  and  a  great  big  doll  !  I  seen 
'c!ii!  I  >\>cu  'nil  !"  and  rolling  over  the  floor  in 
ecstasy,  he  thought    of  a  little  lone,  dripping  lad, 


54  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

curled  in  a  dark  stairway,  clasping  his  only  savings, 
for  a  lonely  Christmas  dinner. 

"Johnny,  come  here!"  said  Officer  McConnell. 
Johnny  ran  and  jumped  upon  his  father's  knee, 
hugging  him  tightly.  After  a  few  minutes  he 
jumped  down  and  ran  to  get  his  cap  and  coat. 
Officer  McConnell  lifted  him  in  his  arms,  and  to- 
gether they  went  out  into  the  night.  Myriads  of 
lights  twinkled  the  gloom  away,  and  Johnny  beat 
time  on  his  father's  back  to  the  tune  he  whistled  as 
he  walked  rapidly  to  the  stairway  the  waif  had 
pointed  out  to  him. 

"Hello,  kid!"  called  Officer  McConnell,  when 
they  had  reached  the  place. 

"Hullo,  kid  !"  echoed  Johnny. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  came  from  within. 

"Come  out  and  see,"  answered  the  policeman. 
"I've  brought  my  boy  along,  and  he  wants  to  talk 
to  you." 

Joey  crept  out,  wondering  ;  raised  his  wan  face  to 
the  pair,  and  then  said:  "Oh,  it's  you!"  while  a 
look  of  relief  and  gladness  came  into  his  eyes. 

"  And  this  is  my  boy,  Johnny.  Kow  tell  us  your 
name." 

"Joey  Ward,"  answered  the  waif. 

"And  we  want  you  to  come  to  our  house  right 
now  and  see  our  Christmas  tree ! "  cried  Johnny, 
who  could  wait  no  longer  to  deliver  his  message. 

"I'm  too  wet,"  answered  Joey. 

"Well,  I  guess  you  can  get  dry,"  laughed  the 
officer,  and  he  lifted  the  child  in  his  strong  arm  and 
started  on  the  run.     Johnny  laughed  gleefully,  but 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  55 

poor  little  Joey  was  not  yet  awake  to  the  facts  of  the 
case,  and  was  so  wet  and  cold  that  he  only  smiled  at 
Johnny's  glee. 

\V  hen  they  reached  the  warm  room  where  the  lit- 
tle McConnells  were  playing,  and  Johnny  had  taken 
off  his  heavy  coat,  Joey  recognized  him — the  boy  in 
brown  velvet  ! — whom  he  had  seen  that  day. 

First,  a  suit  of  Johnny's  warm,  dry  clothes  were 
put  on  the  waif,  by  Officer  McConnell's  great,  lov- 
ing hands,  and  when  the  warmth,  and  light  and 
cheer  had  done  its  work,  Joey  laughed  aloud  at 
Johnny's  antics,  and  was  soon  dancing  around  the 
room  with  the  others.  When,  at  last,  he  was  tucked 
away  in  a  warm,  soft  bed,  he  heaved  sigh  after  sigh 
of  contentment,  and  thankfulness,  and  anticipation. 
He  knew  now  that  the  angels  he  had  seen  in  the  pic- 
tures were  Mrs.  McConnell,  Nora,  and  Grace,  and 
sweet  little  Mary, — and  Officer  McConnell  and 
Johnny,  too,  if  there  were  men  angels. 

But  on  Christmas  morning,  amid  the  flurry  and 
skurry  of  getting  ready  for  the  tree,  Joey  was  missed. 
No  oue  had  noticed  his  going.  Mrs.  McConnell  and 
Nora  had  been  too  busy.  Johnny  had  been  occupied 
in  running  to  the  keyhole,  and  Grace  had  been  oc- 
cupied in  pulling  him  back.  Officer  McConnell  ad 
vised  that  they  wait  a  minute,  and,  just  as  Mrs.  Mc- 
Connell was  saying  that  they  couldn't  wait  any 
longer,  as  she  really  could  not  hold  the  children 
back,  Joey  came  in,  his  face  full  of  excitement,  and 
running  over  to  Mrs.  McConnell,  held  out  a  pack- 
age. Mrs.  McConnell's  hands  were  full,  trying  to 
hold  the  eager  Johnny  and  Mary,  who  made  threat- 


56  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

ening  lunges  toward  the  door.  So  Nora  took  tlit 
package,  and  deposited  its  contents  with  the  other 
things,  and  the  doors  were  opened.  Then  such  a 
jumping  and  tumbling,  and  squealing  and  shouting, 
and  hugging  and  pinching ! — as  the  presents  were 
distributed,  Joey's  among  the  rest.  And  all  the 
while  the  burning  tapers  gleamed  their  Christmas 
Greeting,  and  the  joy  bells  jingled  in  the  generous 
hearts  of  the  gazers.  And  when  Officer  McConnell 
drew  Joey  (with  his  arms  full  of  presents)  to  him, 
and  told  him  that  his  Christmas  gift  to  him  was  a 
home  among  kind  people  he  knew,  and  not  far  from 
the  McConnells',  the  little  Christ-child  image  at  the 
top  of  the  tree  actually  smiled  right  down  into  Joey's 
eyes ! 

Eosamond  Livingstone  MgNaught 


THE  QUEST  OF  THE  MAGI 

By  permission  of  "The  Ladies'  World,"  New  York 


OUT  of  the  East  the  Magi  came 
In  quest  of  the  long  Foretold ; 
Three  kings  were  they  of  royal  fame 

In  the  wondrous  days  of  old  ; 
Afar  they  came  from  the  morning-tide, 

Through  valley  and  meadow  sweet, 
And  sandy  wastes  of  the  desert  wide 
Were  tracked  by  their  camels'  feet. 

Through  drowsy  heats  of  the  burning  noon, 
Through  lonely  and  desolate  lauds. 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  57 

Where  the  wayside  palm-trees  droop  and  swoon 

In  the  hot  and  burning  sands  ; 
In  starlit  camp  of  the  journey  long 

The  dreams  of  their  sleep  outran, 
The  slow-paced  march  of  the  motley  throng 

In  the  trail  of  the  caravan. 

Weary  and  slow  they  traveled  far, 

Out  of  the  land  of  the  morn, 
Led  on  alway  by  the  guiding-star 

In  quest  of  the  King  new-born  ; 
Till  over  the  Syrian  hills  at  night 

Where  the  dreaming  shepherds  lay, 
The  windows  of  heaven  aglow  with  light 

Made  clear  the  gloom  of  the  way. 

And  through  the  streets  of  the  white-walled  town 

They  sought  Him  on  royal  throne  ; 
While  the  starlight  sifted  softly  down 

In  the  court  of  a  stable  lone  ! 
Through  city  and  street,  the  desert  past, 

Full  weary  and  slow  they  filed, 
Till  the  King  they  sought  was  found  at  last 

In  Bethlehem's  wondrous  Child. 

They  brought  Him  gifts  of  the  costliest  things— 

Sweet  myrrh  and  many  a  gem  — 
The  homage  of  hearts  and  treasure  of  kings, 

To  the  niangei'  of  Bethlehem  ; 
Then  back  they  turned  to  the  morning  laud 

And  with  joyful  feet  they  trod 
The  waste  of  the  desert's  burning  sand 

With  faith  in  the  Christ  of  <Jod  I 


58  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

This  was  the  quest  of  the  sages  old  ; 

Now  the  Christmas  bells  renew 
The  sweetest  story  that  time  has  told 

The  sweep  of  the  ages  through ; 
So  carol,  O  heart,  with  chime  of  bells, 

And  open  thy  lips  and  sing, 
While  the  joy  of  Earth  its  rapture  tells 

To  the  world's  Redeemer-King. 

Ben j.  F.  Leggett 


POLLY'S  DISCOVERY 

By  permission  of  "The  Delineator,"  New  York 


THINGS  are  not  like  they  used  to  be 
When  I  was  very  small, 
And  some  things  'bout  old  Santa  Claus 
I  do  not  see  at  all ! 

There  used  to  be  just  only  one, 

Who  came  the  night  before 
And  climbed  right  down  our  chimney  place, 

And  filled  our  stockings  four. 

But  now — oh,  my  !  I  saw  to-day 

Six  standing  'round  in  town, 
Aud  one  was  dressed  in  red  and  white 

And  two  in  pink  and  brown  ! 

One  wore  a  pointy  white  fur  cap 
And  held  a  plate  for  mouey 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  59 

"Which  said  "To  feed  the  Christinas  poor." 
He  looked  most  gay  and  funny  ! 

And  one  who  stood  in  my  toy  store 

Shook  hands  with  me  so  kind, 
And  hoped  I'd  find  a  Christmas  tree 

Just  suited  to  my  mind  ! 

And  once  I  spied  a  real  Saint  Nick, 

Who  gave  me  quick  a  wiuk 
Aud  popped  right  down  his  chimney  big 

Before  I'd  time  to  think. 

And  at  our  Sunday-school  last  night 

The  gifts  from  off  the  tree 
Were  passed  by  still  another  one, 

As  jolly  as  could  be. 

And  Christmas  Day  is  not  here  yefc; 

It's  some  days  off,  you  know, 
And  yet  the  town  is  full  of  these 
•  Kriss  Kringles  in  the  suow  ! 

I  must  begin  to  think  I  think 

That  all  folks — even  I  — 
Could  be  a  kind  of  Santa  Claus 

If  I  should  only  try. 

What  fun  it  is  to  find  it  out ! 

What  fun  to  try  this  year 
To  help  Kriss  Kringle  pass  around 

His  stock  of  Christmas  cheer  I 


60  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

I'm  glad  the  world  is  full  of  us ! 

I'm  glad  to  know  that  we, 
Big  folks  and  little  children,  too, 

Like  Santa  Glaus  cau  be  ! 

Charlotte  Brewster  Jordan 


THE  MORLEYS'  CHRISTMAS  EVE 

By  permission  of  Fords,  Howard  &  Hulbert,  New  York 


AN  attic  room,  neat  and  clean,  but  poorly  fur* 
nished  ;  a  bed  and  a  trundle  bed,  a  small  cook- 
ing-stove, a  shelf  with  a  few  dishes,  one  or  two 
chairs  and  stools,  a  pale,  thin  woman  working  on  a 
vest. 

Her  face  is  anxious  ;  her  thin  hands  tremble  with 
weakness,  and  now  and  then,  as  she  works,  quiet 
tears  drop,  which  she  wipes  quickly. 

This  is  John  Morley's  wife.  This  morning  he 
has  risen  and  gone  out  in  a  desperate  mood.  "No 
use  to  try,"  he  says.  "Didn't  I  go  a  whole  year 
and  never  touch  a  drop?  And  now  just  because  I 
fell  once  I'm  kicked  out !  When  a  fellow  once  trips, 
everybody  gives  him  a  kick.  Talk  about  love  of 
Christ!  Who  believes  it?  Your  Christians  hit  a 
fellow  that's  down  as  hard  as  anybody.  It's  every- 
body for  himself,  and  devil  take  the  hindmost. 
Well,  I'll  trudge  up  to  the  Brooklyn  Navy  Yard 
and  see  if  they'll  take  me  on  there.— If  they  don't  I 
may  as  well  go  to  the  sea,  or  to  the  devil  !  " 

"Mamma!"  says  a  little  voice,   "what  are  we 
going  to  have  for  our  Christmas?'' 


•j 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  61 

It  is  a  little  girl,  with  soft  curly  hair  and 
bright,  earnest  eyes  that  speaks. 

A  sturdy  little  fellow  of  four  presses  up  to  the 
mother's  knee  and  repeats  the  question.  ilShau't 
we  have  a  Christmas,  mother  ?" 

The  poor  woman  is  overcome  ;  she  leans  forward 
and  breaks  into  sobbing, — a  tempest  of  sorrow,  long- 
suppressed,  that  shakes  her  weak  frame  as  she  thinks 
that  her  husband  is  out  of  work,  desperate,  dis- 
couraged, and  tempted,  that  the  rent  is  falling  due, 
and  only  the  poor  pay  of  her  needle  to  meet  it  with. 
In  those  quick  flashes  which  concentrate  through 
the  imagination  the  sorrows  of  years,  she  sees  her 
little  home  broken  up,  her  husband  in  the  gutter, 
her  children  in  the  street.  She  clasps  her  hands 
and  cries  out  in  despair,  "Oh,  my  God,  help  me." 

There  was  no  sound  of  any  voice  that  answered  ; 
there  was  no  sound  of  footfall  on  the  staircase  ;  yet 
that  agonized  cry  had  reached  the  heart  it  was  in- 
tended for.  The  Shining  Ones  were  with  her  ;  they 
brought  her  a  Christmas  gift  from  Christ — the  gift 
of  trust.  She  knew  not  from  whence  came  the  cour- 
age and  rest  that  entered  her  soul ;  but  while  her 
little  ones  stood  wondering  and  silent,  she  turned  to 
her  well-worn  Bible.  Hands  that  she  did  not  see 
guided  her  as  she  turned  the  pages,  and  pointed 
the  words:  "He  shall  deliver  the  needy  when  he 
crieth  ;  the  poor  also  and  him  that  hath  no  helper. 
He  shall  spare  the  poor  and  needy,  and  shall  save 
the  souls  of  the  needy.  He  shall  redeem  their  soul 
from  deceit  and  violence,  and  precious  shall  their 
blood  be  in  His  sight." 


62  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

She  wiped  away  her  tears,  kissed  her  children 
and  smiled  upon  them.  Then  she  gathered  up  her 
finished  work,  and  attired  herself  to  go  forth  and 
carry  it  back  to  the  shop. 

"Mother,"  asked  the  children,  "they  are  dress- 
ing the  church,  and  the  gates  are  open,  and  people 
are  going  in  and  out ;  may n'  t  we  play  there  by  the 
church?" 

The  mother  looked  out  on  the  ivy -grown  walls  of 
the  church,  with  its  flocks  of  twittering  sparrows, 
and  said : 

"  Yes,  my  little  birds  ;  you  may  play  there  if  you 
will  be  very  good  and  quiet." 

The  little  ones  went  gayly  into  the  yard.  They 
had  been  frightened  by  their  mother's  tears;  but 
she  had  smiled  again,  and  that  had  made  all  right 
with  them. 

The  old  sexton  came  to  the  side  door  and  threw 
out  an  armful  of  refuse  greens,  and  then  stopped  a 
moment  and  nodded  kindly  at  them. 

"May  we  play  with  them,  please,  sir?"  said  little 
Elsie,  looking  up  with  great  reverence. 

"Oh,  yes,  to  be  sure  ;  these  are  done  with — they 
are  no  good  now." 

"Oh,  Tottie ! "  cried  Elsie,  rapturously,  "just 
think,  he  says  we  may  play  with  all  these  !  Why, 
here's  ever  and  ever  so  much  green,  enough  to  play 
house.  Let's  play  build  a  house  for  father  and 
mother." 

"I'm  going  to  build  a  house  for  'em  when  I  grow 
up,"  said  Tottie,  "and  I  mean  to  have  glass  bead 
windows  in  it." 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  63 

Tottie  had  once  had  presented  to  him  a  box  of 
glass  beads  to  string,  and  ho  could  think  of  noth- 
ing finer  in  the  future  than  unlimited  glass  beads. 

Meanwhile  his  sister  began  planting  pine  branches 
upright  in  the  snow  to  make  her  house. 

"  You  see,  we  cau  make  believe  there  are  windows 
and  doors  and  a  roof  and  it's  just  as  good,"  said  she. 
"  Now  let's  make  believe  there  is  a  bed  in  this 
corner,  and  we  will  lie  down  to  sleep." 

And  Tottie  obediently  couched  himself  in  the 
allotted  corner  and  shut  his  eyes  very  hard,  though 
after  a  moment  he  remarked  that  the  snow  got  into 
his  neck. 

"You  must  play  it  isn't  snow — play  it's  feathers," 
said  Elsie. 

"  But  I  don't  like  it,"  persisted  Tottie,  "  it  don't 
feel  a  bit  like  feathers." 

"Oh,  well,  then,"  said  Elsie,  accommodating  her- 
self to  the  circumstances,  "  let's  play  get  up  now  and 
I'll  get  breakfast." 

Just  then  the  door  opened  again,  and  the  sexton 
began  sweeping  refuse  out  of  the  church.  There 
were  bits  of  ivy  and  holly,  and  ruffles  of  gronnd- 
pine,  and  lots  of  bright  red  berries  that  came  flying 
forth  into  the  yard,  and  the  children  screamed  for 
joy.  "Oh,  Tottie!"  "Oh,  Elsie!"  "Only  see 
how  many  pretty  things — lots  and  lots  ! " 

The  sexton  laughed  as  he  saw  the  little  ones  so 
eager  for  the  scraps  and  remnants. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  come  in  and  see  the  church  .'" 
he  asked.     "You  may  come  in." 

They  tipped  in  softly,  with  wondering  eyes.     The 


64  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

light  through  the  stained  glass  windows  fell  bhio 
and  crimson  and  yellow  on  the  pillars  all  ruffled 
with  ground-pine  and  brightened  with  scarlet  berries, 
and  there  were  stars  and  crosses  and  mottoes  in  green 
all  through  the  bowery  aisles,  while  the  organist, 
hid  in  a  thicket  of  verdure,  was  practicing  softly, 
and  sweet  voices  sung  :  "  Hark  !  the  herald  angels 
sing,  Glory  to  the  new-born  King." 

"Hush,  Tottie!"  said  Elsie  when  he  broke  into 
an  eager  exclamation,  "don't  make  a  noise.  I  do 
believe  it's  something  like  heaven,"  she  added, 
under  her  breath. 

They  made  the  course  of  the  church  and  came 
round  by  the  door  again  where  the  sexton  stood 
smiling  upon  them. 

11  You  can  find  lots  of  pretty  Christmas  greens  out 
there,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  door  ;  "perhaps  your 
folks  would  like  to  have  some." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  sir,"  exclaimed  Elsie,  raptur- 
ously. "Oh,  Tottie,  only  think!  Let's  gather  a 
good  lot  and  go  home  and  dress  our  room  for  Christ- 
mas. Oh,  won't  mother  be  astonished  when  she 
comes  home,  we'll  make  it  so  pretty  ! " 

And  forthwith  they  began  gathering  into  their 
little  aprons  wreaths  of  ground-pine,  sprigs  of  holly, 
and  twigs  of  crimson  bitter-sweet.  The  sexton, 
seeing  their  zeal,  brought  out  to  them  a  little  cross, 
fancifully  made  of  red  alder-berries  and  pine. 

Soon  the  little  gleaners  were  toddling  off  out  of  the 
yard — moving  masses  of  green. 

They  had  a  merry  time  dressing  the  room.  They 
stuck  big  bushes  of  pine  iu  each  window  ;  they  put 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  65 

a  little  ruffle  of  ground-pine  around  mother's  Bible, 
and  they  fastened  the  beautiful  red  cross  up  over  the 
table,  aud  stuck  sprigs  of  piue  or  holly  into  every 
crack  that  could  be  made,  by  fair  means  or  foul,  to 
accept  it,  and  were  immensely  satisfied  and  de- 
lighted. Tottie  insisted  upon  hanging  up  his  string 
of  many-colored  beads  in  the  window  to  imitate 
the  effect  of  the  stained  glass  of  the  great  church 
window. 

"It  looks  pretty  when  the  light  conies  through," 
he  said. 

When  everything  had  been  stuck  somewhere, 
Elsie  swept  the  floor,  and  made  up  a  fire,  and  put 
on  the  teakettle,  to  have  everything  ready  to  strike 
mother  favorably  on  her  return. 

And,  indeed,  when  mother  opened  the  door  of  her 
little  room,  she  drew  back  astonished  at  the  sight 
that  presented  itself.  A  brisk  fire  was  roaring  in 
the  stove,  and  the  teakettle  was  sputtering  and 
sending  out  clouds  of  steam.  A  table  with  a  white 
cloth  on  it  was  drawn  out  before  the  fire,  aud  a  new 
tea-set  of  pure  white  cups  and  saucers,  with  teapot, 
sugar-bowl,  and  creamer,  complete,  gave  a  festive 
air  to  the  whole.  There  were  bread,  and  butter,  and 
ham-sandwiches,  and  a  Christmas  cake  all  frosted, 
with  little  blue  and  red  and  green  candles  round  it 
ready  to  be  lighted,  and  a  bunch  of  hot-house  flowers 
in  a  pretty  little  vase  in  the  centre.  A  new  stuffed 
rocking-chair  stood  on  one  side  of  the  stove,  and 
then-  sat  .Miss  Florence  DeWitt,  the  daughter  of  the 
man  who  had  turned  John  Morley  off,  and  who  had 
come  to  tell  them  that  she  had  coaxed  her  father 


66  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

into  trying  the  gardener  once  more,  bringing  the 
beautiful  Christmas  things  with  her.  She  sat  hold- 
ing little  Elsie  in  her  lap,  and  both  children  were 
dressed  from  head  to  foot  in  complete  new  suits  of 
clothes,  and  Elsie  was  holding  with  tender  devo- 
tion a  fine  doll,  while  Tottie  rejoiced  in  a  horse  and 
cart. 

And  now  she  said  to  Mrs.  Morley  : 

11  I'm  so  sorry  John  lost  his  place  at  father's.  He 
was  kind  and  obliging,  and  I  always  liked  him  ;  and 
if  you  can  get  him  to  sign  the  pledge  never  to  drink 
another  drop,  papa  will  take  him  back.  I  always 
get  papa  to  do  what  I  want,  and  the  fact  is,  he 
hasn't  got  any  one  who  suited  him  as  well  as  John 
since  he  discharged  him.  Tell  him  I  trust  him." 
And  she  pulled  out  a  paper  wherein  she  had  written 
out  again  the  temperance  pledge,  and  dated  it 
"  Christmas  Eve,  1875." 

"Now,  you  come  with  John  to-morrow  morning, 
and  bring  this  with  his  name  to  it,  and  you'll  see 
what  I'll  do  !"  and  with  a  kiss  to  the  children,  the 
little  good  fairy  departed,  leaving  the  family  to  thek 
Christmas  Eve. 

What  that  Christmas  Eve  was,  when  the  husband 
and  father  came  home,  only  the  family  and  the 
Shining  Ones  who  watched  them  can  say.  There 
were  joyful  tears  and  solemn  prayers,  and  earnest 
prayers  in  the  little  room. 

"  And  the  angels  echoed  around  the  throne, 
Rejoice  !  for  the  Lord  hrings  hack  His  own." 

Haeriet  Beechee  Stowe 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  67 

THE  CHRISTMAS  LIGHT 

By  permission  of  "The  Ladies'  World,"  New  York 


ALONG  the  slopes  of  an  ancient  hill, 
Lo,  we  are  shepherds  and  watchers,  still. 
Behold  the  flocks  of  our  shepherd -care  : 
The  faith  we  hold  and  the  love  we  bear. 

Lo,  we  are  shepherds,  the  same  as  they 
Who  kept  the  Christmas  of  yesterday, 
Who  rose  at  even  and  followed  far 
The  golden  path  of  a  princely  star. 

Beside  old  memories  watching  here 
This  holy  night  of  the  passing  year, 
Across  the  vale  and  along  the  hill 
The  Light  of  Christmas  is  with  us  stilL 

And  we  are  glad  of  the  sacred  sign 
As  were  the  shepherds  of  ancient  line. 
We  rise  to  follow — what  less  might  we 
Than  they,  the  watchers  across  the  sea  f 

We  rise  to  follow— and  home  we  fare, 
Our  gifts  of  incense  and  myrrh  to  bear, 
And  lay  them  down,  with  the  rest,  beside 
The  blessed  Child  of  the  Christmas-tide. 

For  'neath  the  roofs  of  the  homeland  far, 
We  still  keep  faith  with  the  Christmas  Star  j 
And  Love  is  Master,  and  Love  is  all 
To-night  wherever  its  rays  shall  fall. 

FliANK  Walcott  Hutt 


68  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

LITTLE  WOLF'S  WOODEN  SHOES 

By  permission  of  "School  and  Home  Education,"  Bloom  ington,  111. 


LONG  ago,  in  a  village  in  the  north  of  Europe, 
there  lived  a  little  seven  year  old  boy  named 
Wolf.  Wolf  was  an  orphan,  and  was  now  in  charge 
of  an  old  aunt,  who  was  unkind  and  avaricious. 
But  the  little  fellow  was  so  amiable  that  he  loved 
her,  although  he  feared  her. 

As  the  aunt  was  known  to  be  wealthy,  she  was 
ashamed  to  send  her  nephew  to  a  charity  school,  but 
paid  a  reduced  tuitiou.  The  master,  vexed  at  hav- 
ing a  pupil  so  poorly  clad,  and  who  paid  so  little, 
punished  him  frequently  and  unjustly,  and  even  set 
his  comrades,  who  were  all  sons  of  prominent  citi- 
zens, against  him,  and  made  of  the  little  orphan  a 
scapegoat. 

Christmas  approached.  The  evening  before  the 
great  day,  the  master  of  the  school  always  took  his 
pupils  to  church,  and  then  back  to  their  homes.  The 
children  came  to  the  rendezvous  warmly  clad  in 
greatcoats,  with  fur  capes  covering  their  ears, 
gloves  and  woolen  mittens,  while  little  Wolf  alone 
presented  himself  shivering  in  his  every-day  clothes, 
and  having  on  his  feet  heavy  wooden  shoes.  His 
companions  made  open  sport  of  his  sad  face  and  poor 
attire,  but  the  orphan  blew  upon  his  fingers  to  keep 
them  warm  and  took  no  notice  of  his  tormentors. 
And  the  children,  marching  two  and  two,  started  lor 
the  parish  church.  Taking  advantage  of  the  noists 
and  singing  in  the  resplendent  building,  they  begaa 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  69 

to  talk  in  muffled  tones.  They  boasted  of  the  Christ- 
inas Eve  supper  which  awaited  them  at  their  homes. 
The  mayor's  son  had  seen  in  the  kitchen  a  monstrous 
goose,  with  the  truffles  spotted  with  black  points 
like  a  leopard.  At  the  home  of  the  first  alderman 
there  was  a  little  fir  tree  in  a  box,  from  the  branches 
of  which  hung  oranges,  sweetmeats,  and  jumping- 
jacks.  The  cook  at  the  broker's  had  tied  the  strings 
of  her  cap  behind  her  head,  which  she  never  did  ex- 
cept on  Christmas  holidays,  when  she  always  made 
her  famous  cake.  And  they  spoke  of  the  stockings 
which  were  to  hang  by  the  chimney  and  of  what 
Santa  Claus  would  put  in  them,  their  eyes  sparkling 
in  anticipation. 

Little  Wolf  knew  well  from  experience  that  his 
avaricious  aunt  would  send  him  to  bed  without  any 
supper  ;  but,  artlessly,  because  he  was  sure  that  he 
had  been  as  good  and  as  industrious  all  the  year  as 
he  could  be,  he  hoped  the  little  Christ-child  would 
not  forget  him,  and  he  intended,  when  he  went  to 
bed,  to  put  his  wooden  shoes  on  the  hearth  close  by 
the  ashes. 

The  midnight  service  over,  people  hastened  home, 
impatient  for  the  supper,  and  the  little  band  of 
pupils,  two  by  two,  following  the  master,  as  before, 
left  the  church. 

On  the  porch,  sitting  upon  a  stone  bench  in  a 
Gothic  niche,  a  little  child  had  fallen  asleep.  It  was 
wrapped  in  a  white  woolen  cloak,  but  its  feel  were 
bare.  The  child  was  evidently  not  a  beggar,  for  his 
cloak  was  clean  and  new,  and  near  him,  upon  the 
ground,  was  a  square,  a  hatchet,  and  other  carpen- 


7o  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

ter's  tools  tied  up  in  a  neat  bundle.  Seen  in  the 
starlight,  his  countenance  had  an  expression  ol 
divine  sweetness,  and  his  long,  curly,  reddish-brown 
hair  seemed  to  form  a  halo  around  his  head.  But 
his  feet,  blue  with  the  cold  of  this  cruel  December 
weather,  were  pitiful  to  see. 

The  warmly  clad  children  passed  the  little  stranger 
with  indifference ;  some  even  cast  looks  of  disdain 
upon  him.  But  little  Wolf,  coming  out  from  the 
church  last,  paused  before  the  sleeping  child,  deeply 
affected. 

"Ah!"  thought  the  orphan,  "this  poor  little 
one  without  shoes  or  stockings,  on  such  a  night ! 
And  he  has  not  even  a  slipper  or  a  wooden  shoe  to 
put  near  him  while  he  sleeps,  so  that  the  Christ- 
child  can  leave  him  something  !  " 

Prompted  by  the  kindness  of  his  heart,  Wolf  took 
off  the  shoe  from  his  right  foot,  placed  it  before  the 
sleeper,  and,  as  best  he  could,  sometimes  hopping 
on  one  foot,  sometimes  limping  and  wetting  his 
stocking  in  the  snow,  he  returned  to  his  aunt's 
home. 

"Look  at  the  good  -  for  -  nothi  ug ! "  cried  the 
woman,  with  fury.  "What  have  you  done  with 
your  shoe,  little  wretch?" 

Wolf  trembled  with  fear  as  he  told  the  story. 

' '  Ah  !  monsieur  takes  off  his  shoes  for  a  beggar  !  " 
cried  the  contemptuous  voice  of  the  miser.  "  Ah, 
monsieur  spoils  a  pair  of  shoes  for  a  vagabond ! 
This  is  something  new,  indeed.  Well,  since  it  is  so, 
I  will  put  the  shoe  which  is  left  by  the  chimney  and 
will  see  to  it  that  the  Christ- child  puts  beside  it 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  7j 

something  to  whip  you  with.  And  you  shall  have 
nothing  to  eat  all  day  but  dry  bread,  and  we  will  see 
if  you  will  give  your  shoes  to  beggars  ! " 

In  hopeless  misery  the  little  fellow  groped  his  way 
through  the  dark  to  the  loft,  and  dropped  asleep  on 
his  pillow  wet  with  tears. 

But  the  next  morning  when  the  old  woman  awoke 
and  went  down-stairs — oh,  wonders !  she  saw  the 
great  chimney  full  of  sparkling  toys,  sacks  of  mag- 
nificent bonbons,  and  presents  of  all  sorts ;  and  be- 
fore this  treasure,  the  right  shoe  that  her  nephew 
had  given  away  was  found  by  the  side  of  the  left  one 
that  she  had  put  there  the  night  before,  and  where 
she  had  expected  to  find  a  handful  of  sticks. 

While  little  Wolf,  who  had  run  down-stairs  on 
hearing  the  exclamations,  stood  in  wondering  de- 
light before  these  beautiful  gifts  from  the  Christ- 
child,  a  great  burst  of  laughter  was  heard  outside. 
Wolf  and  his  aunt  went  out  and  found  the  gossips 
of  the  town  standing  beside  the  public  fountain. 
What  had  happened  ?  Oh,  a  very  amusing  and  un- 
expected thing  !  The  children  of  the  rich  people  of 
the  village,  those  whose  parents  were  wont  to  sur- 
prise them  with  beautiful  presents,  had  found  only 
switches  in  their  stockings  !  And  one  told  of  seeing 
a  circle  of  gold  above  the  bench  placed  near  the 
church,  on  the  same  spot  where  the  child  with  the 
white  mantle  and  bare  feet  had  rested  his  head 
against  the  stones. 

Wolf  bent  his  head  in  silent  devotion  for  he 
knew  that  the  sleeping  Child  was  Jesus  of  Nazareth, 
who   had   become  for  an  hour  the  child  that   lie 


72  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

was  when  He  worked  iu  the  home  of  His  parents, 
and  had  performed  this  miracle  to  recompense  the 
faith  and  charity  of  the  little  orphan. 


POOR  PAPA 

By  permission  of  "  The  Designer,"  New  Yorlc 


AT  Christmas-time,  poor  papa  tries,  by  sundry 
means  and  shifts, 
To  save  from  out  his  salary,  to  buy  the  children 

gifts ; 
And  though  he  needs  a  new  felt  hat,  he  takes  the 

cash,  of  course, 
To  get  his  precious  baby  boy  a  great  big  rocking- 
horse. 


"While  all  the  time  he  must  protest  that  it's  the 

sheerest  folly ; 
He  walks,   to  save  his  car-fares  up,   to  purchase 

Maude  a  dolly ; 
He  don't  get  nice  hot  dinners  now,  but  just  a  lunch 

instead, 
And  thereby  he  contrives  to  buy  his  eldest  son  a 

sled. 

He  badly  needs  a  pair  of  gloves — the  ones  he  wears 
aren't  mates— 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  73 

But  does  without  them,  for  a  while,  to  get  the  twins 
some  skates  ; 

And  all  his  uickels  and  his  dimes  he  now  finds  very- 
handy 

To  fill  the  children's  stockings  up  with  popcorn, 
nuts  and  candy. 


But  how  they  all  will  thank  him  soon,  perhaps  you 

think  to  say  ; 
"Well,  this  is  just  the  way  things  go,  when  comes 

glad  Christmas  Day  : 
Dear  mamma  tells  them  they  should  all  be  quite 

good  girls  and  boys — 
For  'tis  the  good  old  Santa  Claus  has  brought  them 

these  nice  toys. 

Elsie  Duncan  Yale 


CHRISTMAS 

By  permission  of  ine  Author 


A  T  Christmas-time  Dan  Cupid  plays 
.L\-  The  cantrips  that  all  lovers  know ; 
He  sets  the  coldest  heart  ablaze 
To  watch  where  careless  Beauty  strays 
Beneath  the  magic  mistletoe 
He  turns  the  baldest  prose  to  rhyme 
At  Christmas-time. 


74  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

Old  maids  forget  dour  days  that  lie 
Between  their  autumn  and  their  spring; 
The  moth  becomes  a  butterfly, 
Powdered  with  silver,  bright  of  dye, 
And  daily  wilful  on  the  wing — 
For  seriousness  is  like  a  crime 
At  Christmas-time. 

Old  bachelors,  that  will  not  see 
Their  April's  lusty  green  again, 
"Wag  frosty  head,  bend  gouty  knee, 
Because  the  frolic  deity 
Has  made  the  blood  through  every  vein 
Prance  with  remembrance  of  their  prime 
At  Christmas-time. 

Young  maids  stand  out  upon  the  floor, 
And  old  wives  gossip  by  the  fire, 
While  this  skilled  Archer,  as  of  yore, 
Sends  forth  his  arrows  by  the  score, 
All  winged  and  pointed  with  desire. 
Who  will  may  creep,  who  will  may  climb : 
Love  misses  few  at  Christmas-time. 

NOEA  CHESSOtf 


A  GREAT  SAVING 


JOHN,v  said  Mrs.  Struggles,  a  little  bashfully, 
"you  know  Christmas  is  coming"?" 
Mr.  Struggles  tried  to  appear  astonished.     "My 
gracious  !    Again  ?  "  he  demanded. 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  75 

Mrs.  Struggles  uodded  a  solemn  assurance  of  that 
inevitable  fact.     "And— and "  she  hesitated. 

"Of  course,"  assented  Mr.  Struggles,  resignedly. 
"Well,  how  much?" 

"I've  figured  and  scrimped  and  economized  and 
cheese-pared  all  I  possibly  can,  John,"  began  Mrs. 
Struggles,  apologetically. 

"You  haven't  got  it  down  to  where  your  Christ- 
mas presents  owe  us  money,  have  you?"  inter- 
rupted Mr.  Struggles,  hopefully. 

"Not  quite,"  replied  Mrs.  Struggles,  "but — but 
— well,  I  don't  see  how  I  cau  possibly  get  along 
with  less  than  one  hundred." 

Mr.  Struggles'  face  had  grown  graver  aud  graver. 
"That's  a  good  deal  of  money,  my  dear,"  he  ob- 
jected, hopelessly.  "Especially  just  now.  Can't 
you  possibly  drop  some  off  your  list  or  cut  it  down 
some  way?" 

Mrs.  Struggles  shook  her  head.  "Keally  and 
truly.  I've  done  my  best  already,  John,  dear,"  she 
said. 

"Hum-m,"  considered  Mr.  Struggles,  woefully. 
"Well,  my  dear,  every  dollar  counts  like  a  light- 
ning calculator  just  now,  and  so  suppose  you  drop 
me.     I'll  take  the  will  for  the  deed." 

"I'd  hate  like  everything  to  do  that,  John.  It 
won't  seem  like  Christmas  to  you  at  all." 

"But  it  will  seem  like  heaven  to  save  all  that 
expense,"  argued  Mr.  Struggles. 

"  Well,  if  you  are  sure  you  honestly  would  rather, 
J  might  just  this  once." 

"That's  settled    then,"    decided    Mr.    Struggles, 


76  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

hastily  taking  out  his  check-book  before  she  could 
reconsider.      "  Now  how  much  is  it?" 

Mrs.  Struggles'  lips  aud  fingers  moved  sychro- 
nously  as  she  murmured  a  rapid  mental  calculation 
in  which  her  husband,  with  ever  increasing  expec- 
tation, noted  that  a  number  of  different  amounts 
seemed  to  be  involved.  At  last  she  reached  a  total, 
looked  up  brightly  and  announced  : 

;'You  can  make  the  check  for  only  ninety-nine 
dollars  and  sixty-eight  cents  now,  John,  dear  !  '.' 

Alexander  Ricketts 


CHRISTMAS-LAND 

I  WONDER  where  the  railroad  starts 
That  runs  to  Christmas-land  % 
And  do  excursion  tickets  cost 
More  than  a  boy  can  stand  ? 

If  I  had  time  and  money,  too, 

I'd  start  to  travel,  and 
I'd  wander  up  and  down  till  I 

Had  found  the  Christmas-land. 

I  wonder  if  good  Santa  Clans 
Would  leave  a  map  for  me. 

I'd  like  to  figure  out  how  long 
A  voyage  it  would  be. 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  77 

MISTLETOE  AXD  HOLLY 

By  permission  of  the  Author 


THE  mistletoe  is  gemmed  with  pearls, 
Bed  berries  hath  the  holly. 
Remember,  all  ye  modest  girls, 
The  mistletoe  is  gemmed  with  pearls, 
And  when  it  hangs  above  jour  curls, 

Away  with  melancholy  ! 
The  mistletoe  is  gemmed  with  pearls, 
Eed  berries  hath  the  holly. 

Since  mistletoe  is  hard  to  find, 

We  do  not  need  it,  Mollie, 
O  do,  I  beg  of  you,  be  kind,  — 
Since  mistletoe  is  hard  to  find, 
Pretend  that  you  are  color-blind, 

And  kiss  beneath  this  holly. 
Since  mistletoe  is  hard  to  find, 

We  do  not  need  it,  Mollie. 

Thomas  A.  Daly 


CHRISTMAS  JOY  AND  SORROW 


TT  ARK  !  the  ringing  of  bells,  glad  (  In  istmas  bells, 
J- J-  seems  to  swell  out  the  sound — "  Peace  on  earth, 
good  will  to  men  !  " 

Happy  voices  carol  the  song,  "Good  tidings  of 


78  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

glad  joy!"  and  the  silvery  laughter  of  children 
echoes  the  refrain. 

Fair  forms  gather  at  the  Christmas  feast,  while 
the  sprays  of  mistletoe  and  holly  gi^e  greeting  to 
all. 

Beneath  the  glow  and  glitter  of  lights  the  dancers 
swing,  with  sparkling  eyes  aud  rose-hued  cheeks. 

Aud,  towering  over  all,   iu  its  radiant  beauty, 
spleudid  with  gifts  for  every  one,  stands  the  Christ 
mas  tree.     Shout  upon  shout  breaks  out  upon  the 
snowy  air ;  and  the  Christ-child,  listening,  smiles 
His  blessing. 

But  not  everywhere  is  found  the  Christmas  cheer. 

Yonder  the  light  of  the  Christmas  Day  breaks  upon 
the  home  where  Death  has  entered,  and  there  will 
be  no  feasting  there. 

Silently,  slowly,  the  sad  hours  slip  by,  and  the 
chiming  of  the  bells  seems  a  mockery  to  the  hearts 
wherein  no  joy  dwells. 

In  the  poverty-stricken  home  where  little  ones 
hold  fast  to  their  faith  iu  some  good  fairy,  a 
mother's  heart  is  torn  with  anguish  and  pity  as  she 
remembers  the  prayers  for  God  to  "send  Santa  with 
lots  of  toys,"  and  sees  disappointment  iu  the  trust- 
ful eyes  as  they  gaze  upon  the  few  poor  trifles  which 
she  has  bought  at  a  sacrifice. 

Iu  yonder  beautiful  home  there  are  Christmas  toys 
a-plenty  ;  but  they  are  toys  of  a  by-gone  Christmas, 
and  tears  are  falling  upon  the  little  wooden  soldiers, 
the  drum  that  baby  hands  used  to  rat-a-tat-tat,  and 
the  scarlet  cap  that  rested  on  the  fair  curls  of  one 
whom  the  Christ-child  has  called. 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  79 

This  holiday  with  its  merry-making  means  misery 
enough  to  the  wife  of  the  unfortunate  wretch  to 
whom  the  holy  Christmas  Day  is  only  a  day  of 
rioting. 

There  are  those  to  whom  the  Christmas  Day 
brings  only  a  flood  of  homesick  tears,  a  longing  for 
loved  ones  so  far,  far  away  that  it  seems  as  if  even 
loving  thoughts  cannot  reach  them. 

There  is  the  patient  invalid  ;  she  smiles  in  spite 
of  suffering  as  she  fondles  the  gift  of  a  dear  one. 
The  thoughts  of  the  feeble  old  man  are  bitter  as  he 
totters  alone  amid  scenes  of  joy,  muttering :  "  Christ- 
mas is  for  the  young — for  the  young."  The  beggar 
at  the  door  asks,  "in  the  name  of  the  Christ,"  for  a 
bite  to  satisfy  the  gnawing  of  hunger. 

Joy  claims  the  Christmas  Day,  but  as  Sorrow 
dwelt  with  her  at  Bethlehem  centuries  ago,  so  they 
dwell  together  now ;  and  Joy  sheds  her  light  over 
the  gray  robes  of  Sorrow,  holds  out  her  hand  in 
comfort,  speaks  the  cheering  word,  gives  the  loving 
gift;  while  the  angels,  watching,  sing,  "Glory  to 
God  in  the  Highest,  on  earth  peace,  goodwill  toward 
men  !" 

Eosamoxd  Livingstone  McNaugiit 


80  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

A  CHRISTMAS  MINUET 

By  permission  of  "The  Critic,"  New  York 
(  Very  effective  if  given  tcilh  music  and  steps) 


WHEN  silver  flutes  and  violius 
In  Christmas- laud  are  sighing 
A  dreamy  waltz  that  sets  the  feet 
Of  youths  and  maidens  flying, 
I  see  among  the  plain  black  coats 

And  girlish  rosebud  faces 
Strange  figures  of  the  long  ago 
Come  out  aud  take  their  places. 

Iu  stomachers  aud  gay  brocades 

That  time  has  stained  and  faded, 
In  buckled  shoes  and  velvet  suits 

With  gold  belaced  and  braided ; 
They  tread  a  stately  minuet, 

The  courtliest  of  dances, 
And  underneath  the  mistletoe 

Renew  their  old  romances. 

When  chimes  are  rung  and  carols  sung, 

And  snow  the  landscape  covers, 
The  spirit  of  the  olden  time 

Around  the  holly  hovers. 
Then  every  shadow  to  my  gaze 

A  powdered  head  discloses, 
And  all  the  air  is  faintly  sweet 

With  lavender  and  roses. 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  8» 

With  lifted  skirts  of  pink  and  blue, 

They  courtesy  down  the  middle  ; 
I  hear,  above  the  stops  and  strings, 

The  spinet  and  the  fiddle, 
The  creaking  of  a  coach  and  four 

Between  the  pines  and  laurels, 
And  footsteps  in  the  frozen  snow 

That  vanish  with  the  carols. 

Minna  Irving 


DECEMBER 

By  permission  of"  The  Globe  Democrat,8'  St.  Louis 


~V[  O  flower  hast  thou,  no  song  of  bird  ; 
-LAI    No  vernal  leaf  by  zephyr  stirred  ; 
No  autumn  joys  with  fruitage  rare  ; 
And  every  tree  and  shrub  is  bare. 
Thy  grasses  all  are  dried  and  sear  ; 
Thy  winds  are  cold  and  chill  and  drear  ; 
Thy  sun,  it  fails  with  warmth  benign, 
To  pierce  yon  dull  gray  clouds  of  thine  ; 
And  Night  and  Morn,  they  seemed  to  meet 
Like  ghosts  of  other  days,  and  greet. 
If  mellow  skies  by  chance  appear, 
And  fleecy  clouds  by  bine  decked  clear  j 
Or  sunsets  fair,  with  crimson  glow, 
We  still  thy  form  and  visage  know. 
And  yet  we  see  nor  gloom  nor  frown, 
December,  'Death  thy  holly  crown. 


82  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

Some  falsely  name  thee  mouth  of  gloom, 
And  grudgingly  they  give  thee  room. 
Though  Nature  hast  half  hid  her  face, 
We  give  to  thee  a  welcome  place. 
No  other  month  of  all  the  year 
Cau  bring  to  us  such  joy  and  cheer. 
No  flower,  how  sweet,  that  scents  the  air, 
With  Christmas  holly  can  compare  ; 
No  song,  how  sweet,  that  bird  can  sing, 
Like  carols  heard  for  Christ,  the  Kiug. 
And,  best  of  all,  at  Christmas  time, 
The  heart,  by  melody  sublime, 
Is  stirred  to  noble  thought  and  deed  — 
To  generous  care  for  others'  need  ; 
To  love  more  warm  and  kind  and  true 
Iu  what  we  think  and  say  and  do. 

Alice  Arnold 


MONEY  AND  DREAMS 

By  permission  of"  The  Herald,"    New  York 


HE  settled  himself  in  the  roomy  chair  in  his  big, 
old  house  where  he  had  lived  so  loug  that  the 
city  had  grown  up  away  and  beyond  him,  leaving 
the  house,  which  had  beeu  in  a  fashionable  neighbor- 
hood, so  far  dowu  town  that  there  was  little  more 
than  the  hum  of  business  to  be  heard  all  day  arouud 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  83 

it.  The  old  man's  housekeeper  brought  him  a  <lrink, 
and  oue  of  his  nephews  came  in  to  inquire  how  he 
had  stood  the  day. 

He  had  so  many  nephews  and  nieces  to  look  after 
his  comfort.  When  they  tried  to  persuade  him  to 
go  away  for  a  little  rest  during  the  Christinas  holi- 
days, he  had  said  : 

"  Rest '.  Who  wants  rest  1  Who  cares  for  Christ- 
mas ?  If  you  let  money  rest  it  rusts — rusts  !  Turn 
it  over,  keep  turning  it  over  ;  it  grows,  it  grows  !  " 

The  old  financier  was  the  possessor  of  many  mil- 
lions. But  he  walked  alone.  This  evening  he  sat  in 
the  twilight  which  settled  itself  thickly  about  him. 
The  roar  of  the  metropolis  was  dying  away  in  tired 
sobs  outside.  It  had  been  an  unusually  hard  day. 
He  closed  his  eyes.  He  felt  such  a  strange  sense  of 
oppression.  No,  he  was  not  dizzy.  It  had  passed. 
He  opened  his  eyes  and  put  up  his  hand  to  unfasten 
his  collar.  At  his  neck  he  touched  a  twisted  cord  of 
silk  that  was  around  it.  He  pulled  at  the  cord  and 
drew  out  its  length.  From  it  hung  a  ring — a  silver 
ring — old-fashioned  aud  worn,  and  on  it  two  raised 
hearts  lying  against  each  other  and  rubbed  smooth 
by  time. 

He  sat  now  with  his  eyes  closed  again  and  his 
hand  folded  over  the  ring  on  his  breast.  He  dreamed 
—and  it  was  his  "last  dream.  It  was  not  Christmas 
Eve  to  the  old  man  now,  but  summer — nearly  fifty 
years  ago.  The  roar  of  the  city  gave  way  to  the 
scent  and  quiet  of  an  old  garden  ;  the  dust  and  grime 
to  the  dew  of  a  country  evening,  its  breeze  lightly 
moving  the  leaves  of  the  trees  and  fluttering  the  ruf- 


84  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

fhs  of  a  girl's  muslin  frock,  with  its  pattern  of  suni« 
mer  blossoms  upon  it. 

A  boy — such  a  boyish  country  boy — took  the  sil- 
ver ring,  theu  uew  and  shining,  from  his  pocket  and 
put  it  on  the  hand  of  the  girl  in  the  flowered  muslin 
frock.  Then  they  kissed  each  other,  and  the  girl 
fell  to  sobbing,  with  her  arms  about  her  companion's 
neck,  and  he  spoke  :  "  Never  mind,  dear  ;  Annie 
dear.  I  am  going  away  to  make  a  fortune,  and  I'm 
coming  back  for  you,  and  I  will  take  you  away  to 
the  city,  and  you  will  be  rich  and  have  everything 
you  want." 

"  But  I  don't  like  the  city.  I  should  be  so  afraid 
and  so  confused,  and  you  might  not  love  me  there  as 
you  now  do  here  in  the  country.  People  in  the  city 
forget  each  other." 

"No,  they  don't;  not  if  they  really  love  each 
other,  arid  I  love  you.  Nothing  can  ever  make  me 
forget  you.  See,  not  as  long  as  evening  comes  after 
the  day  and  the  stars  come  with  it." 

They  kissed  each  other  again. 

The  ring  came  back  to  him  in  a  letter  with  a 
flower  from  Annie's  grave. 

Never  once  had  he  gone  to  seek  the  grave  to  rest 
by  it  a  moment.  Work  became  his  love  and  gold 
the  star  that  guided  him. 

Now  he  clasped  the  silver  ring  tighter,  tighter. 
By  and  by  he  gasped  and  fell  forward.  His  clasp 
relaxed  ;  he  sighed  once,  a  deep  sigh,  then  lay  there 
quite  still.     And  thus  they  found  him. 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  85 

CHKISTMAS 

By  permission  of  "The  Ladies'  World,"  New  York 


HO  !  ho  !  thrice  ho  !  for  the  mistletoe, 
Ho  !  for  the  Christmas  holly  ; 
And  ho  !  for  the  merry  boys  ami  girls 

Who  make  the  day  so  jolly. 
And  ho  !  for  the  deep,  new-fallen  snow 

For  the  lace- work  on  each  tree, 
And  ho  !  for  the  joyous  Christmas  hells 
That  ring  so  merrily. 

Ho  !  ho  !  thrice  ho  !  for  the  fire's  warm  glow, 

For  the  mirth  and  cheer  within  ; 
Aud  ho  !  for  the  tender,  thoughtful  hearts, 

And  the  children's  merry  din. 
Ho  !  ho  !  for  the  strong  and  loving  girls, 

For  the  manly,  tender  boys, 
And  ho  !  thrice  ho  !  for  the  coming  home 

To  share  in  the  Christmas  joys. 

Frank  H?  Sweet 


WILLIF/S  DEE  AM 

By  permission  of  "The  Delineator."  New  York 


TUCKED  tight  within  his  trundle  bed, 
Wee  Willie  dreamed  his  presents  came, 
And  strange  and  fearsome  things  they  said  : 


86  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

"  You  must  not  ride  me,"  spake  the  sled, 
Aud  shook,  iu  wrath,  its  clipper  frame. 

The  top  hummed  iu  au  angry  way, 
"  You  must  not  whip  me,  as  you  did 

The  top  that  came  last  Christmas  day  ; 

To  whip  a  top  is  cruel  play, 
And  by  the  law  of  toys  forbid." 

Then  growled  the  drum,  "  I  won't  be  beat 
Like  other  drums  you've  owned  before. " 
The  toy  lamb  gave  a  sorry  bleat, 
"  I  won't  be  left  upon  the  street," 
It  said,  "  or  trampled  to  the  floor." 

A  soldier,  stern,  and  made  of  tin, 
Looked  with  an  all-accusing  eye. 

"  'Tis  time  your  parents  should  begin 

A  course  of  proper  discipline," 
He  said — and  waited  a  reply. 

Then  jumped  the  Jack  from  out  his  box  — 
"I,  too,  must  claim  my  rights  to-night; 
I  won't  give  people  nervous  shocks, 
And  you  must  keep  the  catch  that  locks 
Me  always  fast  secured,  aud  tight." 

Old  Noah  came  from  out  his  ark, 

And  joined  the  rabble  talking  there  — 
"  I  wish  to  make  this  one  remark," 
He  said  ;  "  my  boat  will  not  embark 
On  any  wash-tub  sea  affair." 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  87 

And  thus  they  grumbled,  one  and  all; 

A  wooly  dog,  a  plaster  cat, 
A  roly-poly  rubber  ball, 
A  picture  game  beside  the  wall, 

A  plumed  and  gaudy  soldier  hat. 

Then,  suddenly,  they  ceased  their  noise, 

A  step  fell  heavy  on  the  stair, 
A  voice  cried  loudly  :  "  All  good  boys 
Should  now  arise,  and  view  their  toys!" 

And  papa  stood  by  "Willie  there. 

Pajaina  clad,  wee  Willie  stood, 
A  thoughtful  frown  upon  his  brow  — 

"To  all  these  toys  I  will  be  good  ; 

1  never  knew,  nor  understood," 
He  said,  "that  toys  could  feel,  till  now." 

Stacy  E.  Baker 


CHRISTMAS  FAIRIES 


OH,  the  Christmas  Fairies  are  in  the  air! 
They're  flitting  about  us  and  everywhere. 
There's  the  Fairy  of  Peace  and  of  Good-will  j 
Aud  the  Fairy  of  Love  that  bids  no  ill 
Come  011  this  Christmas  Day. 

Oh,  the  Fairy  of  Cheer  sings  in  the  heart, 
For  the  Fairy  of  Gifts  has  played  its  part, 


88  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

Arid  has  brought  the  Fairy  of  Gratefulness 
For  the  Saviour's  dear  Gift  of  full  Redress 
On  that  first  Christmas  Day. 

The  Fairy  of  Laughter  goes  hand  iu  hand 
With  the  Fairy  of  peast,  throughout  the  laud  ; 
And  the  Fairy  of  Song  its  music  brings, 
While  the  Fairy  of  Bells  its  rapture  riugs 
On  this  glad  Christmas  Day. 

Rosamond  Livingstone  McNaught 


IIOME  FOE  CHRISTMAS 

By  permission  of  the  Author 


u~VTO,  Giles,  I  don't  believe  in  Christmas.  If  I 
-1M  have  told  you  so  once,  I  have  told  you  a  score 
of  times.  I  will  not  have  any  Christmas  flummery 
where  I  can  see  it.  Please  understand  that  dis- 
tinctly." 

"Very  good,  my  lord." 

"  You  can  stick  holly  and  evergreen  in  the  serv- 
ants' hall,  if  they  can't  get  on  without  itr  but  I 
will  have  no  Christmas  foolery  anywhere  else  in  the 
house.  Christmas  is  an  effete,  nonsensical  revival. 
I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  it." 

"Very  good,  my  lord,"  the  butler  repeated  re- 
spectfully, leaving  the  library  to  return  to  the 
housekeeper's  room  and  announce  that, — 

"His  lordship  was  worse  set  agaiust  Christmas 
than  he  had  ever  known  him  in  all  these  years." 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  89, 

"Old  curmudgeon,"  the  housekeeper,  a  newly- 
imported  personage,  said,  with  a  resounding  sniff, 
"he  doesn't  deserve  to  be  in  a  Christian  hind." 

Giles  stiffened.  He  disapproved  of  any  one  who 
called  his  master,  or  his  master's  actions,  in  ques- 
tion. 

"His  lordship  has  a  right  to  his  own  opinions," 
he  said,  coldly,  "and  Christmas  is  a  time  that  re- 
minds him  of  many  sad  things.  No  doubt  he  knows 
his  own  business  best." 

"Oh,  no  doubt,"  snapped  the  housekeeper  ;  "and 
I  have  a  right  to  my  opinion  too,  which  is  that  your 
precious  lordship  is  a  curniudgeon?  and  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  himself  that's  what  I  think.  You  can 
take  it  or  leave  it." 

Mr.  Giles  presumably  left  it,  for  he  sauntered  ma- 
jestically from  the  room. 

While  this  conversation  was  in  course  of  progress 
down-stairs,  John,  Earl  of  Maresbrook,  sat  up-st airs 
alone  in  his  library:  his  armchair  drawn  close  to 
the  blazing  fire,  an  open  book  in  his  hand.  But 
his  eyes  were  not  looking  at  the  printed  page,  they 
were  turned  toward  the  glowing  coals  in  the  grate, 
and  the  frown  which  had  drawn  his  brows  together 
at  his  butler's  words,  still  rested  on  his  face. 

"Holly  and  evergreen  in  the  hall  indeed, — and  in 
here  ! — Bah — the  old  fool  must  be  in  his  dotage. 
When  have  I  ever  wished  to  be  reminded  of 
Christmas,  or  to  see  Christmas  decorations — since — 
since " 

No — he  had  never  been  able  to  endure  Christmas 
decorations,  or  to  tolerate  any  Christinas  rejoicings, 


9o  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

since  that  day  so  long  and  long  ago,  when  he  and 
Jack  had  spent  their  last  Christinas  here  together. 

Pshaw  !  It  was  ridiculous  to  allow  these  tiresome 
memories,  these  thoughts  of  bygone  days,  to  rise  up 
and  look  him  in  the  face  now, — now,  when  they  had 
been  dead  aud  buried  and — forgotten  for  many  and 
many  a  year.  In  spite  of  the  warm,  well  lit  room, 
the  old  man  shivered,  aud  put  out  his  hands  to  the 
blaze,  as  though  those  memories  of  the  past  chilled 
him. 

Once  upou  a  time,  Christmas  at  the  Hall  had  beeu 
a  season  of  gaiety  aud  rejoicing,  a  time  of  unfeigned 
gladness, — goodwill :  but  that  was  before  Jack  and 
he  had  parted  with  the  bitterness,  which  all  the  in- 
tervening years  had  been  powerless  to  wipe  out. 

"With  a  great  rustling  and  crackling  of  its  leaves, 
he  unfolded  the  newspaper,  and  spread  it  before  him, 
mastering  its  contents  by  the  sheer  strength  of  will 
which  had  enabled  him  to  thrust  behind  him  those 
ghosts  of  the  past  that  would  rise  and  look  into  his 
face :  those  thoughts  of  Jack,  which  stirred  at  his 
heart,  because  the  Christmas  season  had  come  round 
again.  The  opening  of  the  front  door,  followed  by 
the  sound  of  voices  in  the  hall,  made  him  lift  his 
head  sharply. 

"I  will  see  nobody  to-night,"  the  reflection  went 
through  his  mind,  "and  if  it  is  the  rector, — he  may 
be  sent  about  his  business  like  the  rest.  I  will  see 
nobody."  He  lifted  again  the  paper  which  he  had 
lowered  for  an  instant,  when  the  library  door  was 
slowly  opened,  and  the  butler  appeared  upon  the 
threshold. 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  91 

:'A  young  gentleman  wishes  to  speak  to  your 
lordship,"  he  said,  in  a  strangely  shaking  voice, 
uhe " 

"I  can  see  nobody  to-night,"  the  answer  came 
quickly  and  peremptorily.  "  I— I  am  busy:  it  is 
past  six  o'clock, — and  I  can  see  nobody." 

"The— the— little— I  should  say  the— er— young 
gentleman  has  come  a  long  May,  your  lordship, — 
audit' " 

"  Ask  his  business.  It  cannot  be  anything  urgent, 
and  if  it  is  urgent,  it  must  wait  till  to-morrow  morn- 
ing.  Twelve  hours  or  so  will  make  no  difference. 
I  can  see  nobody  to-night." 

"I  am  afraid  the  young  gentleman  won't  take  no 
for  an  answer,  my  lord,"  Giles  said  gently;  "he 
seems  wonderfully  determined." 

"Won't  take  no  for  an  answer  !"  Lord  Mares- 
brook  leaped  from  his  chair  with  amazing  celerity 
for  a  man  of  his  years. 

"Has  Christmas  driven  you  mad  that  you  should 
dare  to  come  to  me  and  tell  me  you  are  incapable 
of  turning  away  an  importunate  visitor?  It  seems 
that  I  must  turn  out  this  pushing  person  myself, — 
not  take  no  for  an  answer  indeed  !  " 

The  old  Earl  walked  briskly  across  the  library,  and 
into  the  hall,  when,  from  out  of  the  shadows  uear 
the  front  door  a  small  boy  stepped  into  the  circle  of 
light  immediately  under  the  hanging  lantern.  He 
was  a  very  small  boy,  slight  and  sturdy  of  build, 
dressed  in  a  rough  pilot  coat,  and  holding  his  cap 
in  his  baud.  The  lamplighl  fell  softly  on  his  curly 
head,  and  on  the  fair  uplifted  face,  from  which  a 


92  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

pair  of  bright  blue  eyes  looked  up  iuto  Lord  Mares* 
brook's  startled  countenance. 

"  How  do  you  do ?  "  lie  said.  "I've  come  home 
for  Christmas.  I'm  dreadfully  disappointed  about 
there  being  no  holly  aud  mistletoe." 

"Come — home — for — Christmas?"  Lord  Mares- 
brook  said  slowly,  deeper  aud  deeper  amazement 
spreading  over  his  face.  "  What  does  it  matter  to 
you  whether  there  is  holly  here  or  no?  Who  are 
you  ?     And  why  have  you  come  here  at  all  ? " 

"Well  you  see — Fve  come  for  Christmas,"  the 
small  boy  answered,  thrusting  a  confiding  hand  into 
the  Earl's  limp  aud  unresponsive  one.  "  I've  always 
wanted  to  come  ever  since  I  was  a  tiny  weeny  little 
chap,  from  really  ever  since  I  was  a  baby — ages 
ago."  From  the  vast  age  of  seven  years,  babyhood 
looked  very  far  away,  aud  the  small  sturdy  form 
was  drawn  to  its  full  height. 

"You  see,  out  West,"  he  went  on,  "out  West  we 
don't  have  houses  like  this,  and  I  wanted  most 
dreadfully  to  see  the  holly  berries  shining  against 
the  black  oak,  same  as  it  used  to  do." 

Something  in  the  touch  of  the  little  hand  that 
cluug  to  his  own,  checked  the  impatient  question 
that  rose  to  the  old  man's  lips  :  something  about  the 
fair,  curly  head  that  reached  just  above  his  elbow, 
sent  an  odd,  unaccustomed  thrill  through  his  veins  : 
the  small  clear  voice  seemed  like  the  echo  of  a  voice 
out  of  that  far  away  past,  when  Jack 

"Why  ever  didn't  you  have  any  holly?"  the 
boy's  voice  broke  iu  upon  his  thoughts.  "Is  it  too 
late  to  put  some  up  now  ?     It  ought  to  be  there  by 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  93 

Christmas  morning,  oughtn't  it?  And  ['ve  learned 
Good  King  Wenceslans  to  say  to  you  too,"  he 
added,  with  a  child's  irrelevance. 

Lord  Maresbrook  started,  as  if  he  had  been  stung, 

and  his  hand  suddenly  closed  convulsively  over  the 
hand  he  held. 

"I  never  allow  Christmas  carols  here,"  he  said 
abruptly. 

"Dad  said  you  always  had  carols  every  Christ- 
mas morning — dad  said  there  was  holly  just  every- 
where, all  round  the  pictures,  and  up  the  bannisters, 
and  along  the  oak  in  the  hall,  dad  said " 

The  sudden  clutch  of  the  old  man's  hand  on  his 
shoulder,  made  the  boy  wiuce. 

"  Who  is  dad?  Why  do  you  come  here,  and  tell 
me  what  your  father  says  ?  What  does  it  matter  to 
me!" 

' '  Didn't  you  know  about  my  coming  %  Dad  wrote 
a  letter,"  the  little  lad  replied.  " The  letter  must 
have  got  lost  in  the  post,  'cos  dad  wrote  it,  and  then 
he  sent  me  home  to  you  for  Christmas." 

"Who  are  you,  that  is  the  question  you  haven't 
answered  yet?" 

"Why,  I'm  dad's  boy,  of  course,  and  dad  Mas 
your  boy.  You  haven't  forgotten  about  dad  being 
your  boy,  have  you  1  I  didn't  think  dads  ever  for- 
got about  their  owu  boys. 

"I'm — dad's — boy,"  the  child  repeated  shakily, 
awed  and  oppressed  by  the  oppressive  silence,  "and 
I— just  came — to  say  my  Christmas  carol  to  you, 
same  as  dad  used  to  do." 

Giles'  breathing  became  all  at  once  like  a  sup- 


94  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

pressed  sob,  and  his  master  turned  on  hin\ 
fiercely. 

"What  is  all  this  tomfoolery?"  he  exclaimed. 
"Is  it  some  plot?  And  are  you  in  it?  Who  sent 
this  boy  here  to— to  trouble  me?  " 

"I  won't  be  any  trouble,"  the  child  said  earnestly. 
"I  can  wash  myself  and  dress  myself  and  all,  only 
sometimes  mummy  helps  me  ever  such  a  little  bit 
with  the  difficult  buttons." 

"I  know  nothing  about  it,  my  lord,  nothing  what- 
ever," Giles  put  in  tremblingly.  "  I  was  as  surprised 
as  your  lordship  could  have  been  when  I  saw  the  lit- 
tle gentleman  standing  on  the  step  outside,  and  I 
never  guessed,  I  never  thought — until  I  saw  the 
likeness ' ' 

"The  likeness,  what  likeness?"  exclaimed  the 
Earl. 

"The  little  gentleman  is  the  living  likeness  of  the 
portrait  over  the  dining-room  mantelpiece,  my  lord," 
was  the  respectful  answer.  "  I  couldn't  doubt  who 
he  was  directly  I  set  eyes  on  him." 

"Turn  up  the  lamps  in  the  dining-room,"  the 
old  Earl  said,  shortly,  "and  let  us  see  this  wonderful 
likeness,  then  perhaps" — he  did  not  end  the  sen- 
tence, but  grasping  the  boy's  shoulder  again,  he 
pushed  him  into  the  huge  dining-room,  round  whose 
paneled  walls  hung  the  dead  and  gone  lords  and 
ladies  of  the  Maresbrook  house,  looking  down  with 
varying  expressions  upon  their  grim  old  descendant, 
and  the  little  blue-eyed  boy  by  his  side.  Upon  the 
mantelpiece  stood  two  tall  lamps  whose  light  fell 
full  upon  the  picture  in  the  centre  of  the  wall,  the 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  95 

picture  of  a  boy  dressed  in  the  closely  fitting  white 
satin  doublet  of  a  far  off  date,  a  white  cap  decked 
with  pearls  resting  on  his  short  fair  curls.  The  blue 
eyes  of  the  pictured  child  looked  down  at  the  old 
man  on  the  hearth  rug,  with  an  expression  which 
was  exactly  reproduced  in  the  blue  eyes  of  the 
living  boy :  the  eyes  that  were  turned  from  the 
pictured  boy  in  his  shining  satin  garments,  to  the 
small  boy  in  his  rough  pilot  coat,  were  misty  and  dim. 

"  Dad's  boy,"  he  said,  in  strange,  broken  accents  : 
then  looking  over  his  shoulder  at  the  butler  in  the 
doorway,  he  exclaimed  fiercely,  "Of  course  I  see 
there  is  a  likeness, — any  fool  could  see  that, — but — 
but  it  is  probably  a  chance  likeness, — and " 

"  Dad's  often  told  me  about  this  room,"  the  boy 
broke  in  eagerly;  "he  said  there  was  all  our  an- 
cestors looking  down  at  us  from  the  walls.  And, 
oh  !  please,  before  you  send  me  away  again,  might 
I  just  see  the  room  where  dad  used  to  say  his  carol 
to  you  on  Christmas  morning,  when  he  was  a  little 
chap  like  me?  I've  learned  Good  King  Weuceslaus 
on  purpose  to  say  it  just  like  dad  did." 

The  old  Earl's  eyes  looked  down  again  at  the 
curly  head  so  little  above  his  elbow,  and  with  again 
a  gesture  that  was  more  rough  than  gentle,  he  drew 
the  child  from  the  dining-room  into  the  warm,  well 
lighted  library. 

With  a  low  exclamation  that  sounded  like  an 
inarticulate  cry,  the  old  man  closed  the  door,  leav- 
ing Giles  outside  in  the  hall,  and  shutting  himself 
into  the  library  with  the  child,  whose  alert  gaze  was 
traveling  eagerly  round  the  room. 


96  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

"Tt's  all  every  bit  what  dad  said,"  be  cried  ex- 
citedly ;  "and  oh  !  if  you  please,  don't  send  nie 
away  till  after  Christmas.  I  do  want  dreadfully  to 
say  my  carol  to  you  to-morrow  morning,  exactly  the 
same  as  dad  did." 

"Where — is — dad?"  The  words  came  thickly 
and  with  difficulty  ;  the  old  man  sank  into  his  arm- 
chair as  if  he  were  very  tired. 

"Dad's  at  home  on  the  ranch  out  he  said  he 
was  going  to  send  me  home  for  Christmas,  to  see  you, 
and  to  see  the  dear  old  place, — and  I  was  to  say  to 
you, — I  was  to  say " 

"  What  were  you  to  say  ?"  The  old  voice  grew 
eager,  — impatient. 

"My  goodness!  I  nearly  forgot,"  the  child's 
laugh  rang  round  the  room.  "I've  thought  about  it 
all  the  time,  and  I'm  so  'cited  now,  I  nearly  forgot. 
Why  dad  told  me  to  say,  'Love  the  boy  for  old 
sake's  sake,  and  let  me  come  back  some  day.' 
There  !  I've  remembered,  and  please  may  I  just  stay 
with  you  till  after  Christmas?" 

The  old  man's  head  bent  lower,  lower  yet,  till  the 
gray  hairs  and  the  fair  curls  mingled  together  :  the 
trembling  old  arm  drew  the  sturdy  small  figure 
into  a  close  embrace,  the  shaky  old  voice  said  wist- 
fully, 

"  I — I  think  I  shall  keep  you  with  me  now,  and — 
if  I  keep  you, — what  would  you  like  to  do?  " 

Two  strong  little  arms  were  flung  round  the 
speaker's  neck  :  two  soft  lips  were  laid  against  the 
worn  old  face  :  and  the  small  clear  voice  exclaimed 
triumphantly, 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  g» 

"  First,  I'd  like  to  put  up  holly  and  mistletoe  and 
things  all  over  the  house,  same  as  dad  used  to  do, 
and  then  we'll  sit  here  and  you'll  tell  me  fairy 
stories  same  as  you  used  to  tell  dad  :  and  to  morrow 
we'll  have  a  happy  Christmas, — you  and  me  to- 
gether, and  I'll  be  your  little  boy  till  dad  comes 
home.  Will  dad  be  baek  soon  ?  I'd  have  liked  dad 
here  for  Christmas.''  There  was  a  pause,  then  the 
old  man's  hand  rested  on  the  curly  head  and  he  said 
very  gently, 

"We  can't  get  dad  home  for  this  Christmas  but 
— he  will  be  here  long  before  next  Christmas, — long, 
long  before  then.  You  need  not  be  afraid,  little  chap. 
Next  year  daddy  will  be — home — for — Christmas." 

L.  G.  Moberly 


IF  I  WERE  SANTA  CLAUS 


IF  I  could  be  old  Santa  Clans, 
I'll  tell  you  what  I'd  do; 
I'd  make  a  noise  so  boys  could  tell 

When  I  came  down  the  line. 
And  then  I'd  spread  my  packs  of  toys 

Right  out  upon  the  door, 
And  tell  the  boys  to  help  themselves 
While  I  went  back  for  more. 


q8  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

It  ain't  no  use  to  sneak  around 

And  wait  till  we're  asleep. 
I  guess  I'll  try  and  stay  awake 

And  watch  a  chance  to  peep  ; 
And  then  I'll  tell  old  Santa  Claus 

To  please  to  let  me  come 
And  see  inside  the  packs  myself, 

And  hunt  a  toy  drum. 

For  I  don't  see  how  Santa  Clans 

Could  know  I've  got  a  sled, 
Or  that  I  want  an  engine, 

And  a  tool -chest,  painted  red. 
And  so  if  I  were  Santa  Clans 

I  wouldn't  cheat  the  boys, 
I'd  come  right  in  the  daytime, 

And  let  them  choose  their  toys. 

Rosamond  Livingstone  McNaugki 


THE  VIRGIN' S  LULLABY 

By  permission  of  "Cornliill  Magazine,"  London,  England 


HUSH  Thee,  hush  Thee,  little  Son, 
Dearest  and  divinest  One  : 
Thine  are  all  the  untamed  herds 

That  upon  the  mountain  go, 
Thine  are  all  the  timid  birds 

Thine  the  thunders  and  the  snow. 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  99 

Cry  not  so.     Husho,  my  dear  ! 
Thunder  shall  uot  come  Thee  neai 
While  its  roar  shall  frighten  Thee. 

Mother  holds  Thee  safe  and  warm  ; 
Thou  shalt  walk  upon  the  sea 

And  cry  ' '  Peace ' '  uuto  the  storm. 

Thou  shalt  take  the  souls  of  men 
Iu  Thiue  hand,  as  I  a  wren. 
But  not  yet,  not  yet,  my  Sou. 

Thou  art  still  a  babe  asleep  5 
All  Thy  glories  are  unwon, 

All  mine  own  Thou  art  to  keep. 

Some  day  I  shall  see  Thee  stand 
King  and  Lord  of  every  land. 
Now  I  hold  Thee  to  my  breast, 

Aud  delight  to  feel  Thee  near. 
Some  day — ah  !  this  time  is  best, 

Hush  Thee,  hush  Thee,  Babe  most  dear ! 

Noea  Hoppeb 


ANN  TEEK'S  SILK  DEESS 

By  permissiou  of  "The  Epworth  Herald,"  Chicago 


ANN"  TEEK,  from  the  time  she  had  first  donned 
long  skirts  and  put  up  her  hair,  had  always 
wanted  a  silk  dress — a  lustrous  black  silk  that  would 
swish  when  she  walked.     She  wanted  it  for  special 


ioo         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

occasions  like  weddings  and  funerals,  and  she 
thought  a  black  silk  would  be  suitable  for  either. 

"  We'll  try  to  get  you  a  silk  on  your  eighteenth 
birthday,"  her  mother  promised,  in  all  sincerity  ; 
and  from  the  date  of  that  promise  the  silk  dress  was 
outlined — an  unfading  vision — before  her  expectant 
hopes. 

But  her  birthday  came  and  went  without  the 
longed-for  hope  being  realized — "they  were  too 
poor,  and  there  were  so  many  children  to  be  clothed 
aud  fed."  "Never  mind,  Ann,"  said  the  weary- 
bodied,  but  hope-inspiring  mother,  "perhaps  when 
you're  twenty-one  and  the  children  are  a  little  older, 
aud  if  the  'sparagus  bed  that  your  pappie  set  out- 
last year  turns  out  all  right,  and  we  don't  have  to 
put  a  new  roof  on  the  shed,  and  no  bad  luck  comes, 
we  can  get  it  for  you." 

There  were  so  many  provisos  in  the  mother's  words 
of  encouragement  that  Ann  doubted,  and  as  the 
months  lengthened  into  years  she  beheld  them  one 
by  one  fail — except  the  growing  of  the  children. 
To  begin  with,  there  was  another  Teek — the  ninth — 
to  be  clothed  aud  fed  ;  the  asparagus  bed  produced 
a  few  spindley  sprouts,  and  ceased  bearing ;  the 
shed  roof  was  crushed  iu  under  a  heavy  fall  of  snow  ; 
and  a  young  heifer  was  choked  trying  to  swallow  a 
large  piece  of  turnip.  But  there  was  grit  and  deter- 
mination in  Ann's  make-up,  and  when,  to  the  other 
misfortunes,  was  added  the  death  of  her  father,  fol- 
lowed soon  after  by  her  mother's,  and  she  was  left 
with  the  family  on  her  hands,  every  reasonable  pros- 
pect of  getting  the  black  silk  seemed  to  be  banished 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  101 

to  an  indefinite  future ;  but  she  never  allowed  the 
vision  to  entirely  fade.  It  was  a  labor  of  unremit- 
ting- toil  for  eighteen  years  that  she  faithfully  per- 
formed, until  the  last  of  her  eight  charges  was  set- 
tled in  life,  and  she  looked  down  the  road  at  the 
dust  raised  by  a  disappearing  carriage  which  was  tak- 
ing Hester,  "the  baby,"  with  her  husband  to  the 
railroad  station,  and  she  was  left  alone  on  her  fortieth 
birthday. 

"I've  done  my  best  by  'em  all,"  she  mused. 
"And  now  that  they're  all  fixed  in  homes  of  their 
own,  I'm  going  to  get  my  dress  with  the  very  first 
money  I  can  save.  I  did  want  my  black  silk  for  Hes- 
ter's wedding,  but  I  couldn't  quite  get  it  and  fit  her  out 
as  she  should  be;  but  never  mind" — and  she 
smoothed  the  skirt  of  her  new  alpaca — "I'll  get  it 
soou." 

Ann  had  been  so  accustomed  to  caring  for  others 
that  when  she  found  herself  alone  she  was  restless 
and  dissatisfied,  so  she  went  about  the  country  at 
every  call  of  distress  and  ministered  to  the  needy 
until  she  became  a  public  benefactor.  "Ann 
Teek'll  come,"  people  would  say,  if  there  was  a  case 
of  need,  "she'll  be  glad  to  come."  And  somehow 
they  took  it  for  granted  that  just  because  she  would 
be  glad  to,  she  would  go  and  expect  nothing  in  re- 
turn. Although  absent  from  home  much  of  the 
time  she  managed  to  farm  the  single  acre  left  of  the 
original  farm  and  saved  from  the  sale  of  vegetables 
and  eggs,  for  her  dress. 

"Thought  I'd  'a'  had  it  before  this,"  she  said  as 
she  counted  the  money  in  the  corner  of  her  bureau 


io2         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

drawer,  "but  it 'pears  to  me  it  does  take  along 
time  to  get  twenty-five  dollars  together  ;  but  I'm 
glad  I've  got  these  fifteen  all  saved,  and  now  I'll 
need  only  ten  more  ! ' ' 

"  Ann  !  Ann  !  Ann  Teek  !  Where  are  you  V  she 
heard  some  one  calling  one  morning  when  she  was 
busy  in  the  garden,  and  she  raised  her  head  and  saw 
Joel  Mudley  leaning  out  of  his  buggy,  gazing  to- 
ward the  house. 

"I'm  here,  Joel,  what  are  you  wanting?"  she 
answered. 

"David  Knowles'  wife's  fell  and  broke  her  leg. 
Couldn't  you  come  over  and  look  after  her  and  the 
children  and  take  care  of  the  house  a  spell  1 " 

Ann  was  soon  ready,  and  climbed  in  beside  Joel 
with  a  bundle  under  her  arm,  prepared  for  several 
weeks'  stay. 

"I  reckon  you'll  have  a  pretty  hard  time  of  it 
at  David's,"  remarked  Joel.  "For  they're  in  a 
bad  fix,  with  him  out  of  work  so  long." 

Ann's  arrival  was  a  blessing  to  the  household, 
and  no  one  out  of  David  Knowles'  family  knew  that, 
beside  her  work,  the  money  in  the  drawer,  the 
savings  of  three  years'  denial,  gradually  changed 
into  shoes  and  clothing  for  the  children,  and  for  neces- 
sary household  demands. 

Then  began  the  purpose  anew  to  achieve  her  heart's 
desire,  and  little  by  little  there  were  placed  in  the 
drawer  the  results  of  effort  and  denial  until  at  the 
end  of  four  years  twenty  dollars  looked  up  silently 
into  Anu's  expectant  face.     With  a  quiet  chuckle 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  103 

she  said  :  "I'll  write  to  the  store  in  Amestown  to- 
morrow for  samples." 

Three  times  a  day  for  nearly  a  week  she  went  to 
the  post-office,  until  one  day  a  large  stuffy  envelope 
was  handed  her  and  her  heart  beat  high,  for  she 
knew  it  contained  the  samples. 

Three  times  a  day  for  many  days,  she  spread  the 
samples  upon  the  table  until  her  choice  narrowed 
down  to  two,  and  she  was  putting  them  away,  when 
Belinda  Dawson  came  iu.  She  sank  into  a  chair 
and  burst  iuto  tears.  "Oh,  Ann,  I'm  in  dreadful 
trouble ! " 

"  What  is  it?"  asked  Ann,  sympathetically. 

"  Why,  my  sou  Willie  has  misused  twenty-five 
dollars  of  the  grocer's  money  where  he  has  been 
stayiu';  but  the  grocer  says  he  won't  put  him  in 
prison  if  I  make  up  the  amount  by  to-morrow  morn- 
ing ;  and  I  ain't  got  one  dollar  in  all  the  world,  and 
— I  don't — know  where  to  get  it — or  what  to  do  !  " 
she  sobbed,  while  Auu  sat  by  in  perfect  silence. 

"Of  course  you  ain't  got  it,  Ann  ;  I  know  that ; 
but  I  wanted  to  tell  some  one  as  I  knowed  would 
sympathize  with  me.'' 

"I  am  sorry  for  you,  Belinda,  and  I  hope  you 
get  the  money  somehow,"  said  Ann,  with  an  effort. 

"I  know  you  are  sorry,  Ann.  Good-night."  And 
Ann  watched  her  walk  slowly  away,  then  she  put 
out  the  light  and  went  to  bed. 

"I'm  dreadful  sorry,  dreadful  sorry,"  she  said 
over  and  over  to  herself.     She  tossed  restlessly. 

"Are  you  sorry,  Ann  Teekf"  a  voice  seemed  to 


io4         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

say.  ''What  does  the  Bible  say  about  pure  and 
iindenled  religion  visitin'  the  fatherless  and  the 
widowed?  And  what  are  you  doin',  Ann  Teek? 
Are  you  livin'  up  to  Scripture  in  Widow  Dawson's 
case?"  And  she  arose  with  the  first  streaks  of 
gray  and  went  over  to  Belinda's  with  the  necessary 
money  to  save  Willie  from  prison. 

That  day  she  returned  the  samples  with  a  letter 
to  the  store,  saying  she  was  not  ready  to  get  her 
dress  yet. 

Her  footsteps  were  slower  now  and  the  white 
dominated  in  her  hair.  More  slowly  the  savings 
dropped  into  the  drawer,  but  her  purpose  kept  its 
determination,  and  after  eight  years  of  waiting  she 
again  beheld  twenty-five  dollars  in  her  place  of 
deposit.  Then  a  change  suddenly  took  place  iu 
Ann.  She  shut  herself  in  from  all  intercourse  with 
her  friends.  She  even  ceased  going  to  the  church, 
and  when  neighbors  or  the  minister  called  to  inquire 
about  her,  she,  ever  on  the  lookout,  hastened  to 
lock  herself  away. 

But  one  day  she  went  to  Amestown,  and  said  to  a 
clerk  in  the  principal  store  :  "I  want  to  see  your 
black  silk."  She  ran  her  hand  caressingly  over  the 
pattern  she  liked  best.  Then  she  reluctantly  took 
her  precious  savings  out,  and  counted  it  all  over — 
a  ten-dollar  gold  piece,  two  five-dollar  bills,  and 
five  dollars  in  smaller  change. 

"  It's  just  in  time,"  she  soliloquized  on  the  home* 
ward  journey.  "I  did  hate  to  go  to  the  Christmas 
doin's  next  week  in  the  same  alpaca  I've  worn  so 
many  year.     It'll  be  a  "Christinas  present  to  myself." 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  105 

On  her  way  home  she  stopped  and  engaged  Tabitha 
Hunt  to  help  her  make  it. 

"You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  you've  got  a  black 
silk!''  said  Tabitha,  as  they  unrolled  the  goods. 
and  both  were  so  busy  admiring  it  that  they  did 
uot  hear  a  carriage  stop  before  the  door,  and  were 
startled  by  a  knock. 

••Are  you  Ann  Teek?"  asked  a  strange  voice,  as 
Ann  opened  the  door. 

"That's  been  my  name  for  nigh  onto  sixty  year," 
answered  Ann. 

"I've  come  on  a  sad  errand,"  continued  the 
stranger,  taking  the  chair  Ann  placed  for  him. 
"Your  second  cousin,  Pamilla  Teek's  husband, 
Thomas  Woolley,  over  at  Mastersonville,  died  yes- 
terday." 

"That's  too  bad,"  said  Ann,  wiping  away  a  tear. 
"AVe  must  get  the  dress  done  in  time  for  the  fun- 
eral, Tabitha." 

"The  widow  is  awful  poor,"  continued  the 
stranger,  looking  at  the  silk  on  the  table.  "Un- 
less a  way  is  provided  he  will  have  to  be  buried  by 
the  township." 

"That  must  not  be,"  said  Ann,  desperately. 
"No  Teeks'  relation  was  ever  buried  by  charity 

yet." 

"Well,  there  ain't  any  way  out  of  it  unless  some 
of  their  relations  bury  him,"  said  the  man. 

"Tabitha  Hunt,  will  you  wrap  up  that  silk?" 
said  Ann,  quickly.  "I'm  goiu'  to  Amestown  on 
tie-  next  train.  They  said  they'd  take  it  back  if  it 
didn't  suit,  beiu'  all  in  one  piece." 


io6         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

"She's  queer,"  said  the  clerk,  as  Ann  left  the 
store  with  the  twenty-five  dollars  she  had  given 
him  for  the  silk  clutched  in  her  hand. 

But  perhaps  Ann  Teek's  heart  understood,  best 
of  all  in  the  village,  the  meaning  of  "peace  and 
good- will,"  that  Christmas  tide,  as  once  again  she 
turned  her  black  alpaca. 


IN  SANTA  CLAUS  TIME 

By  permission  of  "  The  Constitution,"  Atlanta,  Ga. 


AIN'T  they  lookiu'  rosy  — 
Ain't  they  feelin'  prime! 
Li'F  bit  of  fellers, 
In  the  Santy  Claus  time  I 

Peekin'  from  the  kiver  — 

Ever'  liT  face, 
When  the  night  wind  rumbles 

In  the  chimney  place. 

"Listen  to  the  witch  wind  ! "  — • 
Hide  each  curly  head  ! 

It's  nuthiu'  but  the  runnin' 
Of  the  reindeer  on  the  shed  ! 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  107 

An'  while  the  dark  is  driftin' 

To  the  moruin'  beams, 
They're  iu  the  Christmas  country, 

Holdin'  hands  with  dreams  ! 

Fkank  L.  Stanton 


CHRISTMAS  ACROSTIC 


C  is  for  Christmas,  best  day  of  the  year ! 
H  is  for  Holly,  the  Christmas  cheer. 
R  is  for  Ringing  of  bells,  glad  and  free  ! 
I  is  for  Imgard,  who  founded  the  tree. 
S  is  for  Santa  Clans,  filled  with  glee  ! 
T  is  for  Toys,  the  stocking  to  fill. 
M  is  for  Mistletoe,  hung  with  good  will ! 
A  is  for  Anthems  that  merrily  ring  ! 
S  is  for  Saviour,  the  Christmas  King  ! 

Rosamond  Livingstone  McjSaught. 


\VITH  NEITHER  PURSE  NOR  SCRIP 

By  permission  of  "  The  Teacher's  Magazine,"  New  York: 


CARLOTTA  opened  her  eyes  in  the  gray  light  of 
the  Christmas  morning.  She  had  been  dream- 
ing of  golden  grain  fields,  streaked  with  poppies; 
now,  instead,  she  saw  the  gray  walls  of  Mrs.  (Aim- 


io8  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

mings'  back  room.  Two  years  and  a  half  ago  slid 
bad  left  her  prairie  home  to  study  in  an  eastern 
school,  from  which  she  graduated  with  credit. 
Then  sbe  sought  the  city,  hoping  to  secure  a  posi- 
tion in  the  public  scbools,  but  after  four  montbs  of 
waiting  she  had  grown  disheartened.  Her  store  of 
money  was  rapidly  diminishing,  and  Carlotta  was 
seriously  contemplating  any  kind  of  work  that  would 
keep  the  wolf  from  the  door. 

"I  wish  it  were  not  Christmas  Day,"  she  mur- 
mured, "I  have  nothing  to  be  merry  over  tliia> 
year, — no  friends,  no  presents,  no  money  to  make 
presents  with." 

As  she  finished  her  toilet,  a  sudden  thought  came 
floating  inexplicably  from  a  long-forgotten  sermon 
or  scripture  reading  :  — 

"Provide  neither  gold,  nor  silver,  nor  brass  in 
your  purses,  nor  script  for  your  journey." 

"That  means  me,"  thought  Carlotta;  "I  have 
neither  purse  nor  script,  but  I  can  give  myself." 

"Merry  Christmas,  Mrs.  Cummings,"  she  said 
brightly,  as  she  sat  down  to  breakfast.  "And  how 
is  Bessie?"  to  a  little  girl  who  stuck  close  to  her 
mamma,  and  cried  peevishly. 

"  My  sister  is  sick  in  Maiden,  and  I  must  take  the 
eleven  o'clock  express  to  her,"  answered  Mrs.  Cum- 
mings. "How  I'll  manage  to  get  my  work  done 
with  Bessie  hanging  on  me  every  minute  is  an  un- 
solved problem." 

Carlotta  had  intended  going  to  church,  but  she 
said  quickly:  "Leave  Bessie  with  me,  and  we'll 
tell  stories  and  cut  paper  dolls."     Bessie  paused 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  109 

suddenly  in  a  preparation  for  a  roar,  and  a  little 
smile  curled  the  corners  of  her  sober  month.  For 
an  hour  and  a  half  Carlotta' s  tongue  and  scissors 
were  busy,  making  the  little  one  happy  with  fairj 
tales  and  paper  dolls.  Then  she  decided  on  a  walk, 
and  when  but  a  few  steps  from  the  house  another 
opportunity  came.  She  was  startled  by  the  vocifer- 
ous howls  of  a  small  boy  who  was  clinging  to  the 
rope  of  a  sled,  while  his  mother  addressed  him  from 
an  open  window : 

"Joseph  Peterson  McCounell,  you  jest  shet  up 
and  quit  yellin'.  It's  no  kind  of  use — you  can't  go 
to  the  common  ;  I  wouldn't  dass  to  let  you — you're 
too  little." 

Joseph  Peterson  McCounell  opened  his  mouth  in 
agony,  and  rent  the  air  with  his  cries,  as  he  danced 
about  on  a  pair  of  diminutive  red-topped  boots. 

"  What  is  the  trouble?"  inquired  Carlotta,  paus- 
ing with  a  sudden  impulse. 

"He  wants  to  go  to  the  common  with  his  new 
sled,"  explained  Mrs.  McCounell.  "The  other 
young  ones  run  off  and  left  him.  It's  kinder  too 
bad.  but  I  don't  dass  let  him  go  alone." 

"Why,  it's  a  shame!"  said  Carlotta,  sympa- 
thetically. "The  idea  !  Having  Santa  Claus  bring 
you  a  new  sled,  and  not  being  able  to  use  it.  I'll 
take  him  over  and  look  after  him.  My  name  is 
Benton." 

"Yes,  I  know  ye,"  said  the  woman.  "I've  scon 
ye  at  Mrs.  Cummin's  when  I  go  to  take  homo  the 
washin'.  You're  real  kind,  and  Joseph  'ud  be 
dreadful  tickled." 


no         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

Joseph  Peterson  gazed  hopefully  up  at  Carlotta, 
and  every  inch  of  his  freckled  face  radiated. 

"Jump  up,"  said  Carlotta,  "I'll  be  your  horse. 
We'll  be  back  at  one,  Mrs.  McCounell." 

As  they  reached  the  common  little  Joseph  Peter- 
son  could  not  resist  sticking  out  his  tongue  at  the 
troop  of  children  who  came  up  begging  Carlotta  to 
ride  with  them.  She  allowed  herself  to  be  dragged 
up  hill  by  more  hands  than  the  rope  would  well 
hold;  she  was  treated  to  "bites"  of  Christmas 
candy  from  sundry  coat  pockets,  proffered  by 
mittened  hands. 

Jack  Fitzgerald,  the  leader,  politely  invited  her 
to  attend  the  festival  of  his  club  that  afternoon. 
Carlotta  consented,  and  at  three  found  herself  in  the 
great  room  where  the  "Columbian  Cadets"  held 
their  sessions.  It  was  a  mixed  audience  of  gram- 
mar school  lads  with  their  mothers,  sisters,  and  a 
few  others.  They  laughed  and  clapped  gaily  as 
the  burly  Santa  Claus  cracked  boyish  jokes,  and 
Carlotta  wras  enjoying  it  all,  when  Jack  Fitzgerald 
came  up  and  asked  her  to  play  for  them.  She  was 
not  a  finished  musician,  but  she  could  play  the  old 
jigs  and  reels  in  a  way  to  stir  the  blood,  and  every 
one  who  could  danced  from  sheer  light-heartedness. 

Carlotta  reached  home  in  the  evening  very  con- 
tent with  the  day's  enterprises  that  had  called  for 
neither  purse  nor  script. 

"This  has  been  a  lovely  Christmas,"  she  said,  as 
she  took  up  a  letter  that  lay  on  her  table.  It  was 
brief,  but  very  satisfactory,  signed  by  the  city's 
most  popular  supervisor,  and  read  ; — 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  in 

"Dear  Miss  Benton :  Merry  Christmas.  You 
will  receive  your  formal  appointment  to  Woodford 
Primary  to-morrow.  I  congratulate  not  only  you, 
but  the  town." 


THE  EMPTY  STOCKING 

By  permissiou  of  "The  Post  Dispatch,"  St.  Louis,  Mo. 


rilHE  tragedy  of  children's  eyes 
-L     That  wake  expectant  Christmas  Day, 
And  find  the  world  yet  cold  and  gray, 
Would  hush  the  harps  of  Paradise. 

The  sob  of  pain  from  lips  forlorn 
That  thought  to  babble  o'er  a  doll, 
But  found  none  answering  their  call, 

Would  choke  the  bliss  in  Gabriel's  horu. 

The  melancholy  cry  of  him 

Who  thought  to  wake  and  find  a  drum, 
And  found  no  drum  at  all  had  come. 

Would  pierce  to  Heaven's  very  rim. 

Dear  Santa  Claus,  oh,  hear  their  prayer  I 
Be  careful  lest  we  hear  again 

The  tragedy,  the  sol*  of  pain 
Of  those  whose  lives  are  bare. 


U2  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

THE  CHIMNEY  DEUMMEE-BOY 

By  permission  of  the  Author  and  Tlie  Outlook  Company,  New  York 
(  To  be  read  in  drum-major  time) 


rPHEEE'S  a  boy  I  know,  and  he  drums  all  day, 
J-    For  his  chief  delight  is  iu  soldier  play. 
'Tis  a  very  little  boy, 
And  a  very  big  drum, 

And  everywhere  he  goes  he  makes  things  hum, 
With  his  brum,  b-rrr  rum-brum,  'in  Brum  !  Brum  ! 


When  the  rooster  crows  at  break  of  day, 

Then  his  kettle-drum  drums  the  reveille. 

At  noon  and  at  night, 

As  he  comes  from  school, 

Then  he  drums  the  "  Eetreat  from  Sebastopol." 

And  the  neighbors  all  hum, 

When  they  hear  him  come  — 

Hi  diddle-dumpty,  tinkle-taiikle-tum, 

Brum,  br-rrr  rum-brum,  Brum  ! 


Now  Santa  Claus  heard  him,  one  Christmas  eve, 

And  he  said  to  himself :  "  'Tis  clear,  I  perceive, 

That  this  idle  boy  is  no  good  here  ; 

For  to  study  and  work  are  not  his  sphere. 

So  I'll  take  him  with  me, 

My  drummer  to  be, 

And  I'll  feed  him  on  jam  and  peppercorn  tea. 

And  my  elves  will  come 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  113 

When  they  bear  him  drum — 
Plan,  rat-a-plan,  tum-e-tum-tum, 
Brum,  br-rrr  rum-brum,  Brum  I 

That  night,  as  he  slept  iu  his  trundle-bed, 

With  his  drum  and  his  drum-sticks  under  his  head, 

They  were  all  whisked  off  up  the  chimney  flue  — 

The  drum  stuck  tight 

But  the  boy  went  through. 

Theu  Santa  Claus  sneezed  with  the  soot  in  his  nose, 

And  the  boy  woke  up,  as  you  may  suppose. 

He  lost  his  hold  on  the  chimney  rim  ; 

Head  over  heels  he  tumbled  in  — 

Bim  !     (That  was  his  head.) 

Bim,  tumble-in,  bim-bim  I    (Those  were  his  heels.) 

There  he  is  in  his  owu  big  drum, 

For  he  can't  get  out  till  the  kingdom-come. 

So  he  drums  all  day,  to  his  heart's  delight, 

And  the  elfins  feed  him  every  night. 

In  the  fireplace  dark, 

If  you  listen  sharp, 

When  the  house  is  still,  and  the  watch -dogs  bark, 

When  the  wind's  northeast,  and  the  storm  is  come. 

Up  the  chimney  glum, 

You  can  hear  him  drum  — 

B-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r  rum,  Brum ! 

William  J.  Long 


H4         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 


THE  PEACE  OF  CHEIST 

By  permission  of  the  Author 


THE  mighty  wrought  thro'  the  ages ; 
They  ploughed  with  the  lance, 
They  sowed  with  the  bow, 
They  reaped  with  the  sword. 
But  bitter  the  fruit  of  their  tillage, 
The  truce  of  the  crushed, 
The  peace  of  the  stroug. 

Iu  all  the  garnered  years 
Oue  starlit  night, 
In  all  the  ways  of  earth, 
One  lowly  byre  is  bright. 

There,  where  the  frosty  breath  of  kine 
Arose  as  incense  at  the  shrine, 
In  human  mother's  love  and  pain 
An  humble  little  child  was  boru, 
"Who  saw  beyond  the  prophet's  ken, 
Who  made  the  gentle  message  plain  — 
Of,  u  Peace  on  earth,  good- will  to  inen." 

The  peace  of  slave  and  crown, 
The  peace  of  weak  aud  stroug  ; 
Wide  as  the  sky  above, 
As  long  as  time  is  long, 
The  peace  of  God  came  down, 
The  peace  of  Love. 

William  Kent 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  115 

LAONG'S  CHBISTMAS  MISSION 

By  permission  of  "  Over  Sea  and  Laud,"  Philadelphia 


LAOXG  was  the  son  of  a  prosperous  Chinese  tea- 
merchant  of  the  better  class,  who  did  not  often 
mix  with  the  foreign  element  of  San  Francisco. 
He  had  a  round  olive  face  with  a  deep  dimple  in 
the  chin,  dark,  bright  eyes,  and  a  long,  smoothly 
braided  cpieue.  He  wore  wide,  dark-blue  trousers 
and  loose  jacket  prettily  ornamented  with  gold  cord 
and  close  fitting  cap. 

It  was  j  nst  four  days  before  Christmas  that  he  had 
a  talk  with  the  Halburys. 

' l  Klismas !    What '  bout  Klismas ! "  he  asked. 

"Why,  Christmas  night,  long  ago,  Jesus  was 
born " 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  Laong,  with  a  little  smile  of 
instant  recollection,  "an'  angels  sing  with  joy  and 
make  all  peoples  so  happy.  Ah,  yes,  I  know  Klis- 
mas now." 

"  And  we  all  have  good  times  and  give  each  other 
nice  things  to  celebrate  Christ's  birthday  because 
He  wishes  us  to  be  happy,"  said  Mrs.  Halbury. 
"When  Jesus  was  here  on  earth  He  said  whatever 
we  could  do  for  the  poor  without  selfishness  He 
would  accept  for  Himself ;  so  out  of  gratitude  for 
His  great  love  and  gift  to  us,  we  give  to  the  poor 
and  needy,  and  so  have  the  true  Christmas  spirit. 
If  we  ouly  give  to  those  we  love,  or  expect  to  receive 
presents  from,  in  return,  we  do  not  fulfil  Christ's 
commandment." 

Laong  listened   with  pleased  attention.      "Make 


n6         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

the  poor  happy,"  he  asked,  "an'  that  pleases  the 
good  Jesus?  In  China,  on  feast  days,  we  mek  the 
gods  much  presents  of  gold  an'  silver,  but  if  the  good 

Jesus  will  not  have  it  so "     He  thought  the 

matter  over  very  carefully  on  his  way  home,  and 
decided  that  to  give  to  people  of  his  own  race  would 
be  selfish.  Suddenly  he  saw  a  child  running  toward 
him  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  street.  At  the 
curb  she  turned  and  looked  back  at  the  rumbling 
wagons  and  fell  headlong,  losing  her  tin  pail,  which 
rolled  down  the  gutter  out  of  her  reach.  Laong  ran 
after  it  and  picked  it  up. 

"It  had  three  pennies  in  it,"  sobbed  the  child, 
when  she  saw  the  empty  pail.  "Oh,  what  shall  I 
do  now?    Poor  Dick  can't  have  any  breakfast." 

"That  velly  bad,"  Laong  said.  "You  got  no 
more  pennies'?" 

She  shook  her  head  sorrowfully,  and  both  began 
to  search  for  the  lost  money.  Meantime  the  child 
told  of  a  sick  brother  and  no  means  to  buy  food  and 
medicine.  Laong  felt  that  his  opportunity  had 
come.  After  asking  her  where  she  lived,  he  took 
from  the  silk  lining  of  his  sleeves  a  tiny  silver  piece, 
which  he  joyfully  offered  his  little  friend,  and  she, 
with  hearty  thanks,  ran  off  to  buy  Dick's  breakfast 
of  milk. 

Christmas  morning  dawned  clear  and  mild.  Laong 
began  making  his  small  preparations  immediately 
after  breakfast. 

"What  for,  Laong?"  Tao  asked,  watching  his 
son  while  he  sat  by  smoking  his  hookah. 

"For  Jesus."  the  boy  answered,  and  paused  to 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  117 

explain  his  plans.  The  father  turned  the  matter 
about  in  his  mind.  His  hopes  were  centred  in  his 
only  son,  and  he  desired  above  all  things  that  Laong 
should  grow  up  to  be  a  good  and  honorable  man  ; 
therefore  he  made  no  objections  to  Laong' s  plans. 

First,  Laong  put  into  his  basket  his  father's  con- 
tribution of  tea  and  coffee  of  the  finest  brand,  done 
np  in  colored  packages  ;  then  a  number  of  Chinese 
confections,  made  of  sweet  and  perfumed  rice  pow- 
der and  dusted  with  pink  and  white  sugar ;  then 
candy  animals — quite  a  menagerie,  chiefly  of  the 
dragon  family ;  a  basket  of  nuts,  cakes  and  fruits. 
Lastly,  he  added  some  books  printed  on  silvery 
white  wood  as  thin  as  paper,  with  beautiful  colored 
pictures  ;  but  he  was  not  quite  satisfied,  for  the  bas- 
ket was  not  full.  He  could  think  of  nothing- 
else  that  would  prove  acceptable.  Yes,  there  Mas 
one  thing  more — his  two  gold  dollars.  These  he 
tucked  away  in  his  sleeves,  and  started  off. 

;No  one  noticed  the  hurrying  little  figure  with  the 
big  bamboo  basket  until  he  turned  into  the  poorer 
streets  toward  the  north  coast,  when  a  group  of  un- 
tidy children  gathered  about  him  shouting,  "Oh, 
Johnny  Ching !  Got  washee?  How  muchee?" 
Some  of  the  boldest  nudged  his  elbow  and  poked 
their  soiled  fingers  through  the  pretty  pekin  cover 
of  his  basket,  but  he  took  no  notice,  and  bravely 
stifled  the  angry  thoughts  that  would  rise  in  spite 
of  his  errand.  When  he  turned  into  the  alley  where 
I  lie  Armitages  lived  the  crowd  thinned  to  a  few 
boys,  and  soon  they  also  tinned  back,  leaving  him 
U)  go  on  in   peace,      lie   went  to  the  basement  door 


n8  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

and  rang  the  bell.  The  door  was  opened  by  a  tall> 
pale-faced  man,  who  looked  at  the  little  visitor  so 
sharply  that  Laong  quite  forgot  the  ' '  Melly  Klismas ' ' 
he  had  intended  to  say.  "  You've  made  a  mistake,'' 
the  man  said,  looking  down  at  his  basket.  "Try 
somewhere  else,"  and  was  about  to  shut  the  door, 
when  Laong  asked : 

"Sick  boy  here?" 

"Yes,  what  of  him?" 

Laong  held  out  his  basket,  smiling  cheerfully. 
"That  for  him." 

"Who  sent  you?"  Mr.  Armitage  asked. 

"The  kind  Jesus,"  answered  Laong. 

"You  mistake,"  repeated  the  man,  "but  you  may 
come  in  and  see  my  son." 

Laong  followed  him  through  the  dark  hallway 
into  a  bare  little  room  where  the  sick  boy  sat 
propped  up  by  pillows.  Beside  him,  on  the  floor, 
sat  a  little  girl,  cutting  paper  dolls  and  toys  to  amuse 
him.  She  looked  up  with  a  smile  of  recognition. 
"  Why,  that's  the  boy  that  helped  me  the  other  day," 
she  cried. 

Laong  placed  the  basket  on  the  table,  and  turned 
to  the  boy.  "  You  velly  bad  sick  ?  "  he  asked,  sym- 
pathetically. He  took  the  gold  pieces  from  his 
sleeves  and  dropped  them  into  the  thin  little  hand, 
saying,  "From  the  good  Jesus." 

Then  Dick  turned  to  his  mother,  and  said  :  "Oh, 
mother,  isn't  God  good  to  send  us  this  just  when  we 
need  it  so  much  ?  ' ' 

There  were  tears  of  joy  in  Mrs.  Armitage' s  eyes 
as  she  took  the  little  brown  hand  in  hers  aud  said, 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  119 

"You've  not  only  helped  us  in  bodily  things,  but 
have  taught  us  to  trust  God  more  fully.  God  bless 
you." 

Laong  smiled  brightly,  conscious  of  having  served 
the  Lord  he  loved.  He  ran  down  the  alleyway,  his 
little  slippered  feet  twinkling  in  the  sunshine.  At 
the  avenue  crossing  a  hand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder 
and  a  voice  said  :  "  Merry  Christmas,  Laong  !  And 
how  do  you  like  Christmas?" 

"  Much  !     How  you  like  it,  Mr.  Lessing?  " 

"  I  never  had  a  better.  Glad  yours  has  been  fine. 
By  the  way,  the  schoolhouse  was  so  much  injured 
by  the  fire  next  door  that  the  walls  are  thought  un- 
safe. I  am  afraid  we'll  have  to  stop  school  for  a 
week,  or  perhaps  a  month,  unless  they  can  get  as 
many  workmen  as  they  want  right  off.  Mind  you 
don't  forget  all  your  lessons." 

"Oh,  no,  Mr.  Lessing,  I  not  forget.  But,  Mr. 
Lessing,  I  know  one  velly  poor  man  what  have  no 
work  for  velly  long  time,  and  no  moneys  and  sick 
boy.     Why  not  you  let  him  work  there,  please? " 


At  the  end  of  the  week  Laong' s  father  passed  the 
church  during  the  meeting,  and  stopped  to  hear 
the  singing.  In  the  course  of  the  worship  a  man 
rose  and  said:  "I  must  tell  you,  friends  and  broth- 
ers, how  God  rebuked  unbelief  and  complaining  by 
sending  help  in  time  of  need."  Then  followed  the 
simple  story  of  Laong's  deed  of  love,  and  how  by 
(he  child's  effort  he  had  received  work  and  his  fain 
ily  been  placed  above  want  and  misery. 


120         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

Tao's  heart  swelled  with  pride  and  tenderness  ^ 
and  at  the  end  of  the  services,  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  he  bowed  his  head  in  devout  prayer  to  the 
God  of  his  little  sou  Laong. 


WHEN  SANTA  CLAUS  WAS  ILL 


OLD  Father  Time,  on  Christmas  Eve, 
Said  anxiously,  "  I  do  believe 
That  Father  Christmas  will  be  late, 
He  ought  to  start,  it's  half-past  eight 
At  midnight  he  is  due  on  earth, 
He'll  have  to  rush  for  all  he's  worth, 
It  is  a  shame,  upon  my  word  ! "  — 
Just  then  the  telephone  was  heard. 
"Hello,"  said  Time.     " Hello,  who's  this ? * 
"A  messenger  from  Father  Kris, 
He  has  a  bad  attack  of  gout 
And  won't  be  able  to  go  out, 
And  so  he  hopes  you  can  supply 
A  substitute  for  him.     Good-bye. " 

"  I  feared  that  this  would  come  to  pass, 
For  Father  Christmas  has  grown  old 
And  cannot  stand  the  frost  and  cold. 
But  to  the  waiting  human  race 
I  must  send  some  oue  in  his  place, 
I'd  go  myself  if  'twas  not  now 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  121 

My  busiest  day,  I  don't  see  how 
I  can  be  spared,  'tis  almost  nine." 
Ting-ting  !     ''Hello,  St.  Valentine  ! " 
"Who'sthis!"    "I'm  Time."    " Hello,  hello, 
Christmas  is  ill,  so  can't  you  go 
And  take  his  place  on  earth  to-night  ? 
You're  just  about  his  size  and  height, 
The  difference  uoue  would  ever  know, 
Come,  hurry  up,  old  chap,  and  go." 

"I  cau't,"  St.  Valentine  replied, 
"I've  caught  a  cold,  and  then  beside 
I'm  very  busy  writing  lines 
And  making  up  my  Valentines. 
I'm  sorry,  Father  Time,  but  I 
Can't  go,  get  some  one  else.    Good-bye." 
Then  Father  Time  was  very  vexed, 
Fourth  of  July  he  called  up  next, 
But  that  young  urchin  laughed  iu  glee, 
And  said,  "  No  Christmases  for  me  ; 
Too  well  my  face  each  youngster  knows, 
Besides,  I  have  no  winter  clothes." 

"I'll  go,"  the  little  New  Year  said, 
Time  patted  the  small  curly  head, 
And  kindly  said,  "No,  boy,  not  so, 
But  next  week,  Sunday,  you  may  go." 
And  just  then  April  Fool  came  by 
With  mischief  in  his  twinkling  eye, 
He  heard  the  trouble,  and  said  he, 
"Why,  Father  Time,  I'll  go,  send  me, 


122  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

I  know  the  customs  of  old  Yule. 
I'll  wear  a  long  white  beard  and  wig, 
And  make  myself  look  old  and  big, 
And  do  the  best  I  can  for  you." 

As  there  was  nothing  else  to  do 
Old  Time  was  forced  to  give  consent, 
And  to  the  April  Fool  he  lent 
Old  Father  Christmas'  robe  and  cap. 
Arrayed  in  these  the  merry  chap 
Was  sure  he'd  fool  the  wisest  folk. 
And  went  off  chuckling  at  the  joke. 
He  reached  the  earth  just  at  the  time 
The  bells  rang  out  their  midnight  chime, 
And  through  the  whole  of  Christmas  Day 
That  tricky  April  Fool  held  sway. 
He  thought  up  all  that  he  could  plaii 
To  tease  the  heart  of  mortal  man. 

Instead  of  snow  and  frost  and  storm 
The  weather  was  quite  mild  and  warm, 
The  fields  were  gay  with  budding  flowers, 
The  clouds  gave  hints  of  April  showers, 
Instead  of  Christmas  songs  all  day 
They  heard  the  street  hand-organs  play, 
The  children  who  had  hoped  to  see 
A  Spruce  or  Hemlock  Christmas  Tree 
Discovered  in  the  best  front  room 
A  Peach  or  Cherry  Tree  in  bloom. 
Even  the  candies  were  no  good, 
Just  cotton,  wool,  or  bits  of  wood, 
And  somehow  no  one  thought  it  dioll 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  123 

To  find  salt  in  the  sugar  bowl. 
He  mixed  up  all  the  children's  toys, 
Gave  drums  to  girls  and  dolls  to  boys, 
He  gaves  the  ladies  pipes  and  canes, 
And  to  the  men,  fans  and  gold  chains, 
Gave  specks  to  babies  in  long  frocks, 
And  to  their  grandpas,  building  blocks, 
Until  each  woman,  man  and  child 
With  indignation  went  quite  wild, 
But  never  did  they  know  or  guess 
"Why  Christmas  wasn't  a  success. 
And  mischief-loving  April  Fool 
Laughed  at  the  topsy-turvy  Yule. 


SLY  SAXTA  CLATTS 

By  permission  of  "The  Christian  Weekly,"  Louisville,  Ky. 


ALL  the  house  was  asleep, 
And  the  fire  burning  low, 
"When,  from  far  up  the  chimney, 

Came  down  a  "Ho  !  ho  !  " 
And  a  little,  round  man, 

With  a  terrible  scratching, 
Dropped  into  the  room 

With  a  wink  that  was  catching. 
Yes,  down  he  came,  bumping, 
And  thumping,  and  jumping, 

And  picked  himself  up  without  sigu  of  a 
bruise ! 


i24         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

"Ho  !  ho  !"  be  kept  on, 

As  if  bursting  witb  cbeer. 
"Good  children,  gay  children, 

Glad  children,  see  here  ! 
I  have  brought  you  fine  dolls, 

And  gay  trumpets,  and  rings, 
Noah's  arks,  and  bright  skates, 

Aud  a  host  of  good  things ! 
I  have  brought  a  whole  sackful, 
A  packful,  a  hackful  J 

Come  hither,  come  hither,  come  hither  aud 
choose ! 

"  Ho  !  ho  !     What  is  this? 

Why,  they  all  are  asleep  I 
But  their  stockings  are  up, 

And  my  presents  will  keep ! 
So,  in  with  the  candies, 

The  books,  and  the  toys ; 
All  the  goodies  I  have 

For  the  good  girls  and  boys. 
I'll  ram  them,  and  jam  them, 
And  slam  them,  and  cram  them  ; 

All  the  stockings  will  hold  while  the  tired 
youngsters  snooze." 

All  the  while  his  round  shoulders 

Kept  ducking  and  ducking  ; 
And  his  little,  fat  fingers 

Kept  tucking  and  tucking  ; 
Until  every  stocking 

Bulged  out,  on  the  wall, 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  125 

As  if  it  were  bursting, 

And  ready  to  fall. 
Aud  then,  all  at  once, 

With  a  whisk  and  a  whistle, 
And  twisting  himself 

Like  a  tough  bit  of  gristle, 
He  bounced  up  again, 

Like  the  down  of  a  thistle, 
And  nothing  was  left  but  the  prints  of 
his  shoes. 

Mrs.  S.  C.  Stone 


THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE  IN"  THE  NURSERY 

By  permission  of  "The  Independent,"  New  York 


WITH  wild  surprise 
Four  great  eyes 
In  two  small  heads, 
From  neighboring  beds 
Looked  out — and  winked  — 
And  glittered  and  blinked 
At  a  very  queer  sight 
In  the  dim  starlight. 
As  plain  as  can  be 

A  fairy  tree 
Flashes  and  glimmers 
And  shakes  and  shimmers. 
Red,  green  and  blue 


126         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

Meet  their  view ; 
Silver  and  gold 
Tlieir  sharp  eyes  behold  ; 
Small  moon,  big  stars  ; 
And  jams  in  jars, 
And  cakes,  and  honey 
And  thimbles,  and  money, 
Pink  dogs,  blue  cats, 
Little  squeaking  rats, 
And  candles,  and  dolls, 
And  crackers,  and  polls, 
A  real  bird  that  sings, 
And  tokens  and  favors, 
And  all  sorts  of  things 
For  the  little  shavers. 

Four  black  eyes 

Grow  big  with  surprise ; 

And  then  grow  bigger 

When  a  tiny  figure, 

Jaunty  and  airy, 

(Is  it  a  fairy?) 

From  the  tree-top  cries, 

"  Open  wide  !     Black  Eyes ! 

Come,  children,  wake  now  ! 

Your  joys  you  may  take  now  J*3 

Quick  as  you  can  think 
Twenty  small  toes 
In  four  pretty  rows, 

Like  little  piggies  pink, 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  127 

All  kick  in  the  air — 

And  before  you  can  wink 

The  tree  stands  bare  ! 

Eichaku  Watson  Gilder 


CHRISTMAS  THOUGHTS 


OF  all  the  old  festivals,  that  of  Christmas  awakens 
the  strongest  and  most  heartfelt  associations. 
There  is  a  tone  of  solemn  aud  sacred  feeling  that 
blends  with  our  conviviality,  and  lifts  the  spirit  to 
a  state  of  hallowed  and  elevated  enjoyment. 

It  is  a  beautiful  arrangement,  derived  from  days 
of  yore,  that  this  festival,  which  commemorates  the 
announcement  of  the  religion  of  peace  and  love,  has 
been  made  the  season  for  gathering  together  of 
family  connections,  and  drawing  closer  again  those 
bands  of  kindred  hearts  which  the  cares,  and  pleas- 
ures, and  sorrows  of  the  world  are  continually 
operating  to  cast  loose  ;  of  calling  back  the  children 
of  a  family,  who  have  launched  forth  in  life,  once 
more  to  assemble  about  the  paternal  hearth,  there 
to  giuw  young  and  loving  again  among  the  endear- 
ing mementoes  of  childhood. 

There  is  something  in  the  very  season  of  the  5  ear 
that  gives  a  charm  to  the  festivity  of  Christmas. 
Id  the  depth  of  winter,  when  Nature  lies  despoiled 
of  her  charms,  wrapped  in  her  shroud  of  sheeted 
snow,  we  turn  for  our  gratifications  to  moral  sources. 


£28  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

Heart  calleth  unto  heart,  and  we  draw  our  pleas- 
ures from  the  deep  wells  of  living  kindness  which 
lie  in  the  quiet  recesses  of  our  bosoms. 

Amidst  the  general  call  to  happiness,  the  bustle 
of  the  spirits  and  stir  of  the  affections,  which  pre* 
vail  at  this  period,  what  bosom  can  remain  insensi- 
ble !  It  is  indeed  the  season  of  regenerated  feeling 
— the  season  for  kindling  not  merely  the  fire  of  hos- 
pitality in  the  hall,  but  the  genial  flame  of  charity 
in  the  heart.  He  who  can  turn  churlishly  away 
from  contemplating  the  felicity  of  his  fellow  beings 
and  can  sit  down  repining  in  loneliness,  when  all 
around  is  joyful,  wants  the  genial  and  social  sympa- 
thies which  constitute  the  charm  of  a  merry  Christ- 
inas. 

Washington  Irving 


CHRISTMAS  DAY 

By  permission  of  "Tue  Ladies'  World,"  New  York 


"VTOW,  chile,  go  hang  yo'  stockin's  high 
JLi        Dyar  by  de  chimbly  place, 
'Fo'  Santa  Clause  goes  ridin'  by 

Wid  him  ole  jolly  face, 
Dat's  alius  smilin'  'cause,  dey  say, 

He  lubs  de  c'hilluu  so, 
An'  brings  dem  gif's  each  Christmas  Day 

Across  de  miles  ob  snow. 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  >2$ 

I's  mended  dem  from  top  to  toe, 

Dey'l  hole  de  t'ings  yo'  need, 
One  li'le  garden  rake  an'  hoe, 

De  book  yo'  longs  to  read, 
Wid  fife  an'  drum  fo'  yo'  to  play  ; 

Dat  Santa  Clause  boun'  know 
De  t'ings  yo's  prayed  fo'  ebery  day 

An'  make  yo'  happy  so. 

Hang  up  yo'  stockin's  den  an'  rest 

He'  in  yo'  little  bed, 
Jes  laik  de  birdies  in  de  nest 

De  nianiniy  bird  hab  fed, 
Till  jingle,  jingle,  in  de  mawn, 

AVhen  all  de  bells  will  say  : 
"  De  holy  Chile  ob  Gawd  am  bawn 

An'  dis  am  Christmas  Day." 

Ruth  Raymond. 


THE  LITTLE  FELLER'S  STOCKED 

Frtm  "Cape  Cod  Ballads  and  Other  Verse,"  by  permission  of  Albert 
Brandt,  Trenton,  N.  J. 


OIT'S  Christmas  Eve,  and  moonlight,  and  the 
Christmas  air  is  chill, 
Aud  the  frosty  Christmas  holly  shines  and  sparkles 

on  the  hill ; 
And  the  Christmas  sleigh-bells  jingle  and  the  Christ- 
inas  laughter  rings, 


130  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

As  the  last  stray  shoppers  hurry,  takiu'  home  the 

Christinas  things ; 
And  up  yonder  in  the  attic  there's  a  little  trundle 

bed 
Where  there's  Christmas  dreams  a-dancin'  through 

a  sleepy  curly  head  ; 
And  it's  "Merry  Christmas,"  Mary,  once  agin  fer 

me  and  you, 
With  the  little  feller's  stockin'  hangin'  up  beside 

the  flue. 

'Tisn't  silk,  that  little  stockin',  and  it  isn't  much 

fer  show, 
And  the  darns  are  pretty  plenty  'round  about  the 

heel  and  toe, 
And  the  color's  kind  er  faded,  and  it's  sorter  worn 

and  old, 
But  it  really  is  surprisin'  what  a  lot  of  love  'twill 

hold; 
And  the  little  hand  that  hung  it  by  the  chimney 

there  along 
Has  a  grip  upon  our  heartstrings  that  is  mighty 

firm  and  strong ; 
So  old  Santy  won't  fergit  it,  though  it  isn't  fine  and 

new, — 
That  plain  little  worsted  stockin'  hangin'  up  beside 

the  flue. 

And  the  crops  may  fail  and  leave  us  with  our  plans 

all  knocked  ter  smash, 
And  the  mortgage  may  hang  heavy,  and  the  bills 

use  up  the  cash, 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  131 

But  whenever  comes  the  season,  jest  so  long's  we've 

got  a  dime, 
There'll  be  soinethin'  in  that  stockin' — won't  there, 

Mary  ? — every  time. 
And  if  in  amongst  our  sunshine  there's  a  shower  or 

two  of  rain, 
Vhy,  we'll  face  it  bravely  smilin1,  and  we'll  try  not 

ter  complain, 
Long  as  Christmas  comes  and  finds  us  here  together, 

me  and  you, 
With  the  little  feller's  stockin'  hang-in'  up  beside 

the  flue. 

Joe  Lincoln 


GOING  HOME  FOR  CHRISTMAS 

By  permission  of  "  Judge,"  New  York 


TPHE  rattle  of  the  coaches  say 
-I    "  I'm  going,  going  home  to-day." 
December  blooms  as  blithe  as  May  ; 
The  wind's  shriek  is  a  roundelay, 
"I'm  going,  going  home  to-day, 
Going  home  for  Christmas." 

The  snowflakes  dance  and  cry  "Hurray  ! 
He's  going,  going  home  to-day." 
The  skies  are  blue,  or  skies  are  gray, 
And  life  is  work,  or  life  is  play  ; 

Who  cares?     I'm  going  li< •  to-day, 

Going  home  for  Christmas. 


U2  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

My  foot  beats  time,  my  pulses  play 
"I'm  going,  going  home  to-day." 
Care  turns  her  back  and  speeds  away, 
Love  smiles  upon  me  light  and  gay  ; 
I'm  going,  going  home  to-day, 
Going  home  for  Christmas. 

Oh,  fate  may  bring  me  bells,  or  bay, 
But  I — I'm  going  home  to-day. 
And  fortune  say  me  yea,  or  nay, 
And  fame  deny  me,    or  delay, 
But  mistletoe  and  holly  say 
"I'm  going,  going  home  to-day, 
Going  home  for  Christmas." 


MES.  MAGUIEE— A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 

By  permission  of  the  Author 


SURE,  it's  not  the  fine  'ating,  and  such,  makes 
me  gay, 
Now  that  Chris'mas  has  come  'round  again  ; 
But  it's  thoughts  of  one  present  of  last  Chris'mas 
day, 
That  makes  me  the  happiest  of  men. 
It  was  then  I  kept  company,  steady,  with  Kate, 

Who  "lived  out"  at  Smith's  over  here; 
And  I  went  'round  as  usual  and  knocked  at  tho 
gate, 
On  the  night  before  Chris'mas,  last  year. 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  133 

'O  !"  says  Katie,  says  .she,  as  she  opened  the  gate, 

"Sure,  I'm  glad  it's  yourself,  Pat  Maguire." 
So  we  set  and  we  talked  till  it  got  mortial  late, 

In  the  glow  of  the  warm  kitchen  fire. 
At  last,  though  I  felt  kind  o'  weak  at  the  heart, 

I  tried  hard  for  to  swally  me  fear, 
And  I  told  her  I'd  bought  her  a  fine  horse  and  cart, 

On  the  night  before  Chris' mas  last  year. 

"Why,"  says  Katie,  "  what  good  is  such  things  to 
me,  Pat?" 
Faith,  I  never  could  tell  how  I  got  the  words  out. 
But  I  looked  down  at  Katie,  and  says,  "  As  for  that. 
You  will  nade  them  both,  Katie,  to  run  me  milk 
route." 
"If  I  run  your  milk  route,"  and  her  eyes  sought 
the  floor, 
"Sure,  I'll  have  to  take  you  for  to  help  me,  Pat, 
dear." 
She's  my  Chris' mas  gift  now,  for  it's  married  we 
were, 
On  the  night  after  Chris' mas,  last  year, 

Thomas  A.  Daly 


TURNED  OUT 

By  permission  of  "  The  Ladies'  World,"  New  York 

""JOSEPH." 
«J    "Yes,  aunt?" 
The    kettle    steamed    vigorously   over  the  fire. 


134         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

Dick,  the  cat,  purred  on  the  braided  rug  before  the 
stove.  Everything  spoke  of  peace  and  contentment ; 
of  rest,  blessed  rest,  after  the  toil  of  the  day.  Upou 
this  was  Joseph's  miud  dwelling  as  he  settled  him- 
self iu  his  easy  chair  and  lifted  his  carpet-slippered 
feet  to  his  favorite  attitude. 

"Joseph,"  said  his  aunt,  never  lifting  her  eyes 
from  her  work,  while  the  deep-set  lines  about  her 
mouth  grew  deeper  and  firmer,  "  I  have  decided  to 
get  on  alone  this  winter." 

There,  it  was  out !  The  old  woman's  rocker  in- 
creased the  cadence  of  its  creaking,  but  still  she 
kept  her  eyes  upon  her  knitting. 

As  for  Joseph,  the  look  of  astonishment,  then 
consternation,  that  came  over  his  face  was  pitiful  to 
see.  He  brought  down  his  feet  from  their  place  of 
ease,  half  turned  in  his  chair  till  he  could  see  his 
aunt's  rigid  expression,  and  exclaimed  in  a  voice  in 
which  all  the  trouble  of  his  face  was  reproduced  .• 
"Alone?  why,  aunt,  what  have  I  done?  Ain't 
I  'tended  to  the  wood,  and  ain't  I  helped  you  wash, 
and  ain't  I  done  everything  for  yer  that  I  could  ? 
Be  yer  sick  of  seem'  me  'round?  Why,  aunt,"  his 
voice  broke  as  his  eyes  filled,  "  why,  aunt,  I  didn't 
know  I  wasn't  a-pleasin'  yer." 

The  cadence  of  the  chair  increased  yet  again,  and 
Mary  waited  a  moment  before  answering.  "  'Tain't 
you,  Joe,"  she  said,  finally  ;  "it's me,  I  guess.  But 
I  tell  yer,  Joe,  I've  been  thinking  it  over  all  summer, 
and  if  I  am  an  old  woman  I  ain't  quite  laid  on  the 
shelf  yet,  and  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  be,  neither." 

As  she  talked,  her  feelings  overcame  her  timidity 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  135 

of  speech,  and  now  she  set  forth  her  views  with  the 
pent-up  feelings  of  ten  months.  "  No,  sir  !  I  ain't 
quite  bed-ridden  yet.  Here  I've  beena-runnm'  this 
house  for  forty  years,  and  never  a  day  but  what  I 
was  glad  there  wa'n'tno  man  botherin'  'round. 
Who  dug  the  garding  and  planted  it,  year  in  an' 
year  out,  before  you  came?  I  did.  Who  threw  in 
the  wood  an'  piled  it  up  in  the  shed  every  fall !  I 
did.  Who's  drawed  the  water  a  pail  at  a  time  all 
these  years,  and  who  even  laid  the  shingles  on  the 
ell  an'  barn  teu  years  ago  ?  I  did.  I  did,  Joe  Ger- 
rish,  and  you  know  it.  Now  do  you  think  I'm 
a-goin'  to  see  my  home  taken  right  out  of  my  hands 
an'  me  a-dependiu'  on  somebody  else?  Well,  I 
ain't." 

"But  the  'rangement,  auntie,  the  'rangemeut," 
said  Joe,  grasping  like  a  drowning  man  at  the  only 
straw  in  sight;  "you  know  the  'rangement  was 
that  I  do  the  work  around,  and  make  my  home  here 
the  rest  of  my  days,  and  that  some  time,  some  time 
when  you  get  through,  aunt,  I  was  a-goin'  to  have 
the  place.  Wa'n't  that  the  understandiu',  Aunt 
Mary  ?  " 

"Providin',  Joe,  providin'  that  at  the  end  of  a 
year  everything  was  satisfactory.  Wa'n't  that  what 
I  said?  Didn't  you  agree  to  that,  now?  Tell  me, 
now,  didn't  you  agree  to  it  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  agreed  to  it,  aunt,  I  agreed  to  it ;  but  1 
never  once 'spected yer  wa'n*t  sal  isfied  with  me.  I've 
tried  awful  hard  to  please  yer,  aunt.  I've  done  all 
I  could  to  spare  yer;  I've  scrubbed  and  dug,  aud 
dug  and  scrubbed.     Why,    aunt,    it's  a-comin  ou 


136  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

winter  and  there's  the  paths  to  shovel  and  the  well 
to  dig  out,  aud  you  know  how  the  suow  always  drifts 
up  agaiust  the  door  ?  " 

"That'll  do,  Joe,  that'll  do.  Ain't  I  shoveled 
down  them  drifts  for  nigh  onto  forty  year,  an' 
ain't  I  dug  out  that  well  many  a  time  %  I  tell  yer 
I  won't  give  up  if  I  am  over  eighty  years  @ld.  I 
guess  I  ain't  got  the  old  Stover  blood  in  my  veins 
for  nothin'  !  It  ain't  you,  Joe  ;  you've  done  well 
enough,  that  is,  well  enough  for  a  man  ;  but  I've 
lived  alone  for  a  good  spell  and  I  ain't  goin'  to  give 
up  yet.  Yer  needn't  hurry  'bout  makin'  'range- 
ments  'bout  a  boardin'  place  if  yer  don't  want  to, 
bat  as  soon  as  yer  do  get  out  I  want  to  clean  the  room 
aud  shut  it  up  for  the  winter.  I  know  yer' ve  tried, 
Joe,  but  a  niau  does  make  a  powerful  lot  o'  dirt 
'round.     Sort  o'  seems  to  be  their  natur's." 

Turned  out !  Joe  looked  around  at  the  homely, 
old  fashioned  iurniture  of  the  kitchen,  at  the  splint- 
ered wood-box  he  had  filled  so  often,  at  the  stove  he 
had  so  skilfully  mended,  and  thereby  given  a  long, 
new  lease  of  life. 

Turned  out !  His  eye  caught  sight  of  the  big, 
round  face  of  the  clock  he  had  wound  every  Sunday 
morning  jus*  after  breakfast.  He  had  never  noticed 
before  that  he  clock  could  talk,  but  the  measured 
tick  of  the  i  mduluin,  as  it  swung  to  and  fro,  seemed 
to  echo  the  words  of  his  brain,  "turned — out, 
turned — out ,  turned — out. ' ' 

Oh,  but  it  was  hard  to  be  turned  out  how  !  Xot 
but  that  be  could  continue  to  do  oddjobsandso 
earn  a  livi  jg  from  the  more  pretentious  neighbors ; 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  137 

his  services  were  always  in  demand.  But  the  old 
house  had  become  home  to  him.  To  sit  down  at 
night  and  draw  offhis  heavy  boots,  put  on  his  warm, 
roomy  slippers,  and  after  supper,  with  Dick  on  his 
knees  or  close  beside  him,  think  over  his  thoughts 
iu  fpiiet,  was  joy  enough  and  to  spare. 

"Turned  out,  turned  out,"  whistled  theNovember 
wind  as  it  rattled  the  window  and  shook  the  shutters, 
and  in  its  troubled  sleep  that  night,  the  gray  head 
turned  on  the  pillow  and  the  bearded  lips  muttered 
agaiu  and  again  :  "turned  out,  turned  out." 

December  came.  It  was  a  hard  month.  Great 
storms  piled  the  streets,  and  country,  city,  and  ship- 
ping suffered.  Christmas  for  Joe  Gerrish,  had  he 
been  a  different  man,  would  have  had  little  of  cheer 
and  much  of  bitter  memory.  But  in  his  one  little 
room  he  kept  his  diminutive  stove  fiercely  going, 
and  before  it  he  rubbed  his  hands  gleefully.  "  A 
snug  little  harbor,  a  snug  little  harbor,"  he  repeated 
over  and  over  again. 

To  see  this  room  without  its  occupant  was  to  see 
a  room,  habitable,  but  very  cheerless.  But  to  see  it 
on  that  Christmas  night,  with  the  gray-headed  man 
Bitting  contentedly  before  the  glowing  stove,  was  to 
see  it  transformed.  The  peaceful  patience  of  that 
face  was  more  than  the  touch  of  art  to  any  room,  and 
in  its  presence  the  bare  walls  and  floor.  Hie  cracked 
window  glass  and  poor  furniture  were  forgotten. 

Once  he  had  gone  to  the  old  house  in  the  early 
morning  after  a  big  storm  and  begun  to  shovel  away 
the  snow,  hoping  to  have  it  done  and  get  away  un- 


138  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

observed  by  his  aunt,  but  scarcely  had  he  shoveled 
a  foot,  before  a  window  went  up,  and  a  familiar 
voice  bade  him  to  "  Get  out  and  let  her  alone,"  and 
he  had  "  got  out,"  and  ever  since  had  stayed  away. 
Neighbors  noticed  the  forlorn-looking  old  woman 
shoveling  away  alone,  but  no  one  knew  the  battle 
that  proud  spirit  was  fighting  against  bodily  weak- 
ness, and  no  one,  much  less  Joe,  realized  how  in  her 
heart  she  longed  for  the  strong  arm  of  him  who  had 
been  the  only  helper  she  had  known  in  forty  years. 
It  wasn't  quite  as  she  thought  it  would  be — not 
quite  what  it  was  before  Joe  came. 

The  cry  of  fire  and  the  bright  glare  of  the  blaze 
brought  Joe  into  the  street  with  all  the  speed  he 
could  muster.  The  fire  was  near,  and  Mary's  house 
might  be  in  danger.  This  was  his  one  thought. 
No  remembrance  that  he  had  been  told  to  "get  out," 
and  hurrying  along  the  street  he  reached  the  corner 
just  in  time  to  see  Hose  Four  come  dashing  up  with 
the  chief. 

Millions  of  sparks  were  joining  the  myriad  stars 
in  the  heavens  and  floating  swiftly  off,  blight  and 
beautiful  agents  of  terror  and  destruction.  The 
fire  was  in  a  large,  costly  stable,  and  had  spread  to 
the  house,  and  though  the  chief  was  everywhere 
present  with  words  of  encouragement  and  advice,  in 
half  an  hour  three  houses  had  gone,  and  the  fire  was 
still  spreading. 

How  they  worked,  those  monster  engines  !  How 
they  snorted  and  shook  and  spit  fire  as  they  sucked 
up  every  well  and  cistern  in  the  street,  and  at  last, 
when  the  water  was  almost  gone,  the  fire  was  known 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  139 

to  be  under  control.  All  eyes  were  on  the  men  at 
the  pipes  and  on  the  ladders,  but  in  the  next  street  no 
one  saw  the  desperate  battle  for  a  home,  for  a  little, 
old,  weather-beaten  house  that  would  have  hardly 
received  mention  in  the  morning  papers.  In  her 
little  yard  over  in  Dutton  Street,  old  Mary  Stover 
was  alternately  drawing'  pail  after  pail  of  water, 
throwing  it  as  high  as  possible  (which  was  hardly 
above  the  windows)  and  wringing  her  hands  iu 
despair,  when  around  the  corner  of  the  house  burst 
Joe,  his  hat  gone  and  coat  open  to  the  wind.  With- 
out a  minute's  hesitation  he  forced  in  the  shed  door, 
] tailed  out  the  old  ladder  and  mounted  to  the  roof. 
Already  the  shingles  were  burning  in  a  dozen  places, 
and  as  Mary  drew  the  water  and  passed  it,  Joe 
threw  it  right  and  left.  Few  roofs  caught,  for 
nearly  all  in  the  neighborhood  were  slated,  and  the 
wind  seemed  to  single  out  the  little  old  house  with 
its  cedar  shingles  for  its  especial  prey.  Faster  and 
taster  fell  the  glowing  embers,  and  where  they 
touched,  tiny,  swiftly-spreading  flames  sprang  up. 
The  old  man's  knees  were  growing  lame  and  weak  ; 
his  soaking  clothes  froze  and  his  hands  blistered  as 
with  them,  while  waiting  for  water,  he  smothered 
the  fire  here  and  there.  At  last  the  water  ceased  to 
come,  and  looking  down  he  saw  Mary  sitting  ex- 
hausted by  the  well.  Her  strength  had  failed  at 
last  and  she  could  do  no  more.  Not  a  word  had 
passed  between  them  since  he  came,  and  of  their 
past  differences  neither  had  a  thought. 

Clambering  quickly  down  he  took  the  exhausted 
woman  in  his  arms  and  carried  her  into  the  house, 


i4o         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

then,  hurrying  out  again,  drew  each  pail  of  watei 
himself,  and  climbing  up  the  ladder,  threw  it  about 
on  the  roof.  But,  thank  heaven  !  the  worst  was 
over,  and  the  dear  old  house  was  safe. 

The  old  man  wet  the  last  glowing  shingle,  then 
slowty  and  painfully  felt  his  way  down  from  round 
to  round  and  stood  shivering  in  the  snow,  looking 
at  the  door  in  indecision. 

Theu  he  tottered  into  the  kitchen  and  lay  down. 
Dick  crept  up  to  him  with  an  appreciative  purr  and 
rubbed  his  uose  agaiust  the  old  man's  face,  while  the 
blistered  and  blackened  hand  came  up  and  stroked 
him,  and  then  Joe  knew  no  more. 

When  he  woke  it  was  to  find  himself  on  the 
familiar  horsehair  sofa,  with  blankets  tucked  in 
about  him,  and  Mary  kneeling  beside  him  with  tears 
streaming  down  her  wrinkled  cheeks. 

"Oh,  Joe,  will  you  stay  now?  I'm  so  sorry! 
I'm  only  an  old  woman,  Joe  ;  will  you  stay  now?" 

"Why,  aunt,"  answered  Joe,  "why,  aunt,  it's 
good  of  you  to  take  me  in.     'Course  I'll  stay." 

And  the  big  clock  ticked  its  measured  strokes, 
but  now  it  said  :  "  Tucked-in,"  "  tucked-in." 

Frank  Hazlewood  Eowe 


A  BALLADE  OF  OLD  LOVES 

from  "Idle  ldjis,"  by  permission  of  Messrs.  Dorid,  Mead  &Co..  New  Yovil 


WHO  is  it  stands  on  the  polished  stair, 
A  merry,  laughing,  winsome  maid, 
From  the  Christmas  rose  in  her  golden  hair 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  14, 

To  the  high-heeled  slippers  of  spangled  suede  ? 
A  glance,  half  daring  and  half  afraid, 

Gleams  from  her  roguish  eyes  downcast ; 
Already  the  vision  begins  to  lade  — 

'Tis  only  a  ghost  of  a  Christmas  Past. 

Who  is  it  sits  in  that  high-backed  chair, 

Quaintly  in  ruff  and  patch  arrayed, 
With  a  mockery  gay  of  a  stately  air 

As  she  rustles  the  folds  of  her  old  brocade,  — 
Merriest  heart  at  the  masquerade  ! 

Ah,  but  the  picture  is  passing  fast 
Back  to  the  darkness  from  which  it  strayed — ■ 

'Tis  only  a  ghost  of  a  Christmas  Past. 

Who  is  it  whirls  in  a  ball-room's  glare, 

Her  soft  white  hand  on  my  shoulder  laid, 
Like  a  radiant  lily,  tall  and  fair, 

While  the  violins  in  the  corner  played 
The  wailing  strains  of  the  Serenade  ? 

Oh,  lovely  vision,  too  sweet  to  last  — 
E'en  now  my  fancy  it  will  evade  — 

'Tis  only  a  ghost  of  a  Christmas  Past 

L' ENVOI. 

Eosamond  !  look  not  so  dismayed, 
All  of  my  heart,  dear  love,  thou  hast 

Jealous,  beloved  ?     Of  a  shade  ?  — 
'Tis  only  a  ghost  of  a  Christmas  Past. 

Carolyn  Wells 


H2  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

CHREES'MAS  TIME 

By  permission  of  the  Author 


"  pHREES'MAS  time  ees  vera  funna ! 
v^       I  do  feel  dees  way  bayfore. 
I  gon'  out  an'  speuda  mona 

Teel  I  no  gat  any  more. 
Jus'  blowed  dollar' n  half  for  Rosa  — 

Dollar' n  half  for  buy  a  ring  ! 
All  for  her !    I  no  supposa 

She  gon'  geev  me  anyt'ing. 
Chrees'mas  mak'  your  heart  so  tender 

Like  a  snowball  weun  eet  melts  ; 
You  no  care  how  mooch  you  spenda 

Jus'  for  pleasin'  some  wan  else. 
Dat'sa  way  dees  Chrees'mas  fever 

Catcha  me.     I  got  eet  bad ! 
I  no  care  how  mooch  I  geev  her, 

Jus'  so  long  eet  mak'  her  glad. 
I  no  want  her  geev  me  notting ; 

I  gon'  mak'  dees  praisant  free, 
Jus'  baycausa  Rosa  tol'  me 

She  gon'  marry  weetha  me. 
Chrees'mas  time  ees  vera  funna! 

I  no  feel  dees  way  bayfore. 
I  gon'  out  au'  spenda  mona 

Teel  I  no  gat  any  more." 

Thomas  A.  Daly 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  143 

A  CHRISTMAS  CAROL 

By  permission  of"  Pall  Mall  Gazette,"  London,  England 


THE  trees  are  hung  with  crystal  lamps,  the  wold 
lies  still  aud  white, 
ikrid  the  myriad  little  twinkling  stars  are  sharp  with 

keener  light ; 
The  moon  sails  up  the  frost-clear  sky  and  silvers  all 

the  snow, 
As  she  did,  perchance,  that  Christmas  night,  two 
thousand  years  ago  ! 

Good  people,  are  you  waking  ! 

Give  us  food  and  give  us  wine, 
For  the  sake  of  blessed  Mary 
And  her  Infant  Son  Divine, 
Who  was  born  the  world's  Redeemer  — 
A  Saviour — yours  and  mine  ! 


Long  ago  angelic  harpers  sang  the  song  we  sing  to- 
day, 
And  the  drowsy  folk  of  Bethlehem  may  have  listened 

as  they  lay  ! 
But  eager  shepherds  left  their  flocks,  and  o'er  the 

desert  wild 
The  kingly  sages  journeyed  to  adore  the  Holy  Child  ! 
Has  any  man  a  quarrel  % 

Has  another  used  you  ill  % 
The  friendly  Word  you  meant  to  say, 

Is  that  unspoken  still?  — 
Then,  remember,  'twas  the  Angels 
Brought  glad  tidings  of  good  will ! 


i44  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

Of  all  the  gifts  of  Christmas,  are  you  fain  to  win  the 

best? 
Lo !  the  Christ-child  still  is  waiting  Himself  to  be 

your  quest ; 
No  lot  so  high  or  lowly  but  He  will  take  His  part, 
If  you  do  but  bid  Him  welcome  to  a  clean  aiid  ten- 
der heart. 

Are  you  sleeping,  are  you  waking  ? 

To  the  Manger  haste  away, 
And  you  shall  see  a  wond'rous  sight 

Amid  the  straw  and  hay. — 
'Tis  Love  Himself  Incarnate 
As  on  this  Christmas  Day  ! 

Christian  Burke 


WHEN  ELIZABETH  WENT  HOME 

By  permission  of  "McClure's  Magazine,''  New  York 


IT  was  only  five  o'clock,  but  the  wide,  far-stretch- 
ing prairie  lay  swathed  in  twilight,  and  the  scene 
was  unspeakably  dreary  to  Elizabeth  as  she  stood 
gazing  out  into  the  deepening  dusk. 

"At  home,"  she  mused,  and  the  word  vibrated 
in  her  mind  with  an  aching  tenderness,  "the  elec- 
tric lights  are  gleaming  along  the  streets,  the  trolley 
cars  are  full  of  happy  Christmas  shoppers.  Papa 
has  come  in  now  and  hurries  off  to  his  room  with 
various  mysterious  bundles ;  Alice  and  Dick  are 
hobnobbing  together  in  a  corner  over  mamma's  pres- 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  145 

ent.  After  dinner,  some  of  tin*  crowd  will  come  in 
and  there  will  be  music  and  dancing,  then  later  a 
jolly  little  supper  around  the  chafing-dish." 

She  turned  from  her  thoughts  to  the  gray  st retell 
outside.  "Snow,  stillness — country,  country,  coun- 
try! I  hate  it !  1  like  noise  and  lights  and  good 
times  and  people  I  Oh,  I  want  to  go  home  !  I  want 
to  go  home !" 

Her  husband  was  coming  now.  Stamping  the 
snow  from  his  feet  he  entered  the  warm  room.  "  It' s 
awfully  cold  outside,"  he  remarked.  The  wife  made 
no  response,  and  the  man  said  no  more  until  she 
summoned  him  to  the  evening  meal.  Then  he  ven- 
tured, "It  doesn't  seem  possible  that  day  after  to- 
morrow is  Christmas,  does  it?" 

"  Please  don't  remind  me  of  it,  Eobert,"  she  cried 
sharply.  The  man  winced  and  put  down  his  coffee- 
cup.  Suddenly  he  gave  his  shoulders  an  energetic 
little  shake.  "Elizabeth,"  he  said,  "let's  hurry  and 
get  through,  then  we  can  spend  the  evening  packing 
your  truuk,  for  you  must  start  home  in  the  morn- 
ing. You  will  arrive  Christmas  afternoon,  in  timo 
for  most  of  the  festivities,  and  you  can  stay  just  as 
long  as  you  like." 

Elizabeth  looked  at  him  with  startled  eyes. 
"  What  do  you  mean ? "  she  asked,  "you  know  very 
well " 

"Just  this,  dear "  broke  in  the  man,  "you 

must  take  the  seventy  five  dollars  wTe  saved  to  gel 
new  machinery  in  thy  spring.  I'll  manage  about 
that  somehow." 

"Why — why,   I   couldn't    do   that,"    stammered 


146  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

Elizabeth,  but  with  hope  mounting  iu  her  heart,  "  1 
won't  do  it." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  will,"  he  replied.  "I  think  I  can 
get  the  machinery  somehow,  but  we  won't  talk  about 
that  now.  Nothing  matters  except  for  my  sad  little 
girl  to  find  her  happy  heart  again." 

"Oh,  Robert,  you're  so  good,  so  good!  And 
what  a  poor  wife  I  am  '  So  selfish  and  unkind  to 
you !  But,  Kobert,  you  can't  understand.  You 
can't  realize  how  I  ache  to  go  home.  The  snow  and 
stillness  and  bigness  of  everything  gets  on  my  nerves. 
It  wasn't  so  bad  in  the  early  summer  when  the 
woolly  buffalo  grass  was  so  soft  and  pretty,  and  the 
sky  was  so  blue  ;  and  when  mamma  and  Alice  were 

here,  it  was  fine,  but,  oh,  this  winter !     And 

we've  been  married  a  year  and  a  half,  and  I've  never 
been  home  once !  When  we  planned  to  go  this 
Christmas,  I  was  so  happy,  and  then  things  went 
wrong  and  we  couldn't  afford  it.  Oh,  Robert,  I 
know  I  oughtn't  to  go,  but  I  do  want  to  !  But  I 
won't  stay  long,  and  when  I  come  back  I'll  be  the 
best  wife  in  the  world  !  " 

So  it  was  settled.  The  pretty  trousseau,  almost 
unworn,  was  prepared  for  the  Eastern  journey. 
Early  the  next  day  they  drove  over  to  the  nearest 
town,  where  Elizabeth  was  to  take  the  east-bound 
train.  To  their  dismay,  they  learned  that  the  train 
was  two  hours  late. 

"Robert,  you  need  not  wait.  There  are  so  many 
things  you  ought  to  do  back  at  the  house.  I'll  tele- 
graph home.     It  will  help  to  pass  the  time." 

"Very  well,   dear.     And   here's  a  note  I  wrote 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  147 

you  last  night ;  I  was  rather  wakeful.  Read  it 
some  time  on  the  way.  Good-bye,  then  ;  have  a 
good  time  and  be  happy.     Good-bye." 

Elizabeth  went  back  into  the  station  and  sat  down. 
There  was  only  one  other  person  in  the  room,  a 
gaunt,  fiat-chested  German  woman.  Then  Eliza- 
beth tore  open  her  note  and  read  : 

"This  is  only  a  few  words  to  bid  my  little  wife 
Godspeed,  and  say  a  few  other  things  that  I  want 
to  say  now  while  I  see  them,  clearly.  It  has  come 
upon  me  lately  that  I  have  wronged  you  in  bring- 
ing you  to  this  lonely  place.  My  boyhood  was 
passed  in  the  country  and  I  love  it,  and  you,  catch- 
ing a  little  of  the  enthusiasm,  were  willing  to  come. 
So  I  refused  the  kind  offer  of  your  Uncle  Henry. 
The  stifling  round  of  the  office  fevers  me.  But  you 
were  made  for  the  easier,  more  sparkling  life  of  the 
city,  and  the  happiness  of  you  is  the  happiness  of 
me,  so  if  your  uncle's  offer  is  still  open  to  me,  I  will 
accept  it,  if  you  so  desire.  But  if  you  could  find  it 
in  your  heart  to  give  this  life  a  few  more  months' 
trial,  I  feel  sure  the  crops  this  year  will  be  as  good 
as  they  were  poor  last  year,  and  then  we  could  make 
this  home  more  like  your  old  one.  But  if  you  feel 
that  you  do  not  wish  to  make  the  trial,  then  say  so, 
and  your  wish  shall  be  my  wish.  Have  a  happy 
visit,  and  God  keep  you." 

Elizabeth's  tears  fell  on  the  note  before  she  had 
finished.  "There  is  not  another  in  the  world  so 
good  as  Robert,"  she  thought ;  "  I  won't  try  to  de- 
ride now  about  the  farm,  I'll  wait  till  I  get  home, 
I'd  better  telegraph  now." 


148         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

She  turned  toward  the  little  room  where  the 
operator  sat,  arid  then  hesitated  ;  somehow  the  keen 
edge  of  her  eagerness  was  dulled.  The  home  vision 
was  not  so  radiant  as  it  had  seemed.  She  remem- 
bered her  brother  Dick  and  his  friends,  with  their 
well-groomed  persons,  their  polished  flippancy,  and 
then  she  thought  of  Robert  in  his  worn  ulster,  his 
cheeks  glowiug  from  the  wind  of  the  prairie ;  but 
with  loneliness  in  his  sober  eyes.  She  drew  her 
hand  across  her  forehead  with  a  gesture  of  trouble 
and  dissatisfaction,  and  then  her  eyes  fell  upon  the 
old  German  woman  on  the  other  bench,  A  dull, 
colorless  creature  she  was,  who  might  have  been 
anywhere  between  twenty-five  and  forty.  One 
would  hardly  have  noticed  her  a  second  time,  but 
for  the  expression  of  grief  that  dignified  her  un 
lovely  face.  Every  once  in  a  while  a  tear  fell  from 
her  eyes,  and  rolled  down  her  faded  cheeks.  Eliza- 
beth, always  tender-hearted  in  the  presence  of 
suffering,  walked  over  to  her.  "  Is  there  anything 
I  can  do  for  you?"  she  asked  timidly. 

"Nobody  can't  do  nottings,"  replied  the  woman. 
"My  man  been  dead." 

"Oh,"  said  Elizabeth,  helplessly,  "I'm  sorry. 
Has  he  been  dead  long?" 

The  woman  moved  over  for  Elizabeth  to  sit  be- 
side her,  and  began  to  talk  eagerly.  It  was  a  relief 
to  pour  out  some  of  the  trouble  in  her  heart  to  this 
kindly  stranger. 

"No,  miss;  one  week  he  has  been  dead.  Ten 
years  Chris  and  me's  been  married.  Chris  hadn't 
uo  learning,  but  he  was  good  looking,  yes.     I  had 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  149 

learning.  I  could  read  and  some  I  could  write.  I 
worked  in  the  canning  factory  mit  Gnssie  and  Tina, 
and  lots  of  other  girls,  and  sooch  fun  we  been  hav- 
ing. Then  'long  come  Chris  and  asked  me  won't  I 
many  mit  him,  aud  I  did.  But  he  ain't  high-toned 
like  me,  and  he  want  to  have  a  farm,  aud  we  did 
come  way  out  here.  But  I  never  did  like  it,  no.  It 
sads  me  to  hear  the  wolves  in  the  night-time,  and 
everything  is  that  still  !  And  I  don't  like  never  to 
see  nobody.  I  want  to  see  Tim  and  Gussie  and 
work  in  the  canning  factory  again  already,  and  I 
ask  him  to  go,  but  he  say  no.  And  I  sass  him  and 
sass  him,  and  he  don't  say  mooch,  and  never  don't 
beat  me,  and  now  he  been  dead,  my  man  been 
dead."     Her  stooped  shoulders  shook  with  sobs. 

"And  now  what  are  you  going  to  do!"  asked 
Elizabeth,  huskily. 

"I'm  going  to  try  to  get  into  the  canning  factory 
again  already.  But  I  don't  want  to  work  in  the 
canning  factory,  no.  I  want  to  live  out  on  the 
prairie  mit  Chris.  It  wouldn't  sad  me  no  more. 
Mt-in  Gott,  I  been  one  fool !  Wolves  don't  matter. 
Never  seein'  nobody  don't  matter.  Nothiu'  matter 
but  your  man  !" 

Elizabeth  rose  aud  grasped  the  woman's  hand. 
The  light  that  never  was  on  sea  or  land  was  in  her 
eyes.  "Yes,  you're  right.  Nothing  matters  but 
your  man.     Thank  you  !     And  good-bye!" 

It  was  Christmas  Eve.  Robert  sal  alone  in  I  lie 
little  house  and  looked  into  the  fire.  The  honk 
where    Elizabeth's  jacket    had    hung    was   empty. 


c50         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

Her  little  overshoes  were  gone,  too.  He  dared  not 
turn  his  eyes  in  that  direction.  Suddenly  he  bowed 
his  head  in  his  hands.  "I  am  a  failure,"  he  said 
bitterly.  "I  have  failed  with  the  farm.  I  have 
failed  with  Elizabeth."  Tears  fell  upon  his  tanned 
cheeks — not  the  quick,  bright  tears  of  childhood, 
but  the  awful  tears  of  manhood  that  start  in  the 
deeps  of  the  heart  and  come  by  a  slow,  burning 
pathway  to  the  eyes. 

Then  Elizabeth  came. 

Her  cheeks  glowed,  and  her  eyes  were  dazzling 
lovelights.  "Oh,  Eobert,"  she  cried,  "I  couldn't 
go.  I  couldn't  endure  Christmas  without  you. 
And  of  course  we'll  try  Dakota  a  little  longer — for- 
ever, if  you  like.  I  shall  never  hate  it  again, 
for — '  nothing  matters  but  your  man.'  " 

Ethel  Bowman  Ronald 


HOW  THE  CHRIST-FLOWER  BLOOMED 

By  permission  of  "The  .Ladies'  World,"  New  York 


DARK  was  the  sky  that  Christmas  Eve, 
The  heavy  clouds  hung  low  ; 
The  charcoal  burner  scarce  could  trace 
His  pathway  through  the  snow. 

Black  Forest  trees  stood  thick  and  tall. 
Black  Forest  drifts  were  deep  j 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  151 

Yet,  light  of  heart,  he  hastened  home, 
The  Christinas  Feast  to  keep. 

He  stumbled  on,  when  through  the  blast 

A  piteous  cry  was  heard, 
And  close  beside  him,  heaped  in  snows, 

A  wailing  infant  stirred. 

*'.Now  who  has  laid  thee  here,  sweet  babe, 

To  perish  in  the  storm  ? 
'Tis  Christmas  Eve  ;  I'll  take  thee  home, 

My  cloak  shall  wrap  thee  warm." 

The  tiny  creature,  as  he  spoke. 

He  gathered  to  his  breast, 
And  there  beyond,  his  cottage  shone, 

In  Christmas  firelight  dressed. 

"Within  the  good- wife's  tender  arms 

The  shivering  waif  was  set, 
And  children's  faces  bent  above, 

And  eyes  with  pity  wet. 

Warm  and  content,  the  stranger  babe 
Gazed  wondering  o'er  the  room, 

Aud  spied  at  last  the  children's  tree, 
A  Christmas  rose  in  bloom. 

Eager  they  ran  to  show  the?  lights, 
And  round  their  treasure  pressed  ; 

When  lo  !  a  glimmering  cloud  of  mist 
Enwrapped  the  wondrous  guest. 


152         CHRISTMAS  SELECTION^ 

On  silver-shiiiirig  wings  lie  rose, 

His  fair  head  bore  a  crown, 
And  vanishing,  with  baby  hands 

He  wafted  blessings  down. 

Next  morning,  where,  amid  the  snows, 

The  Babe  had  made  his  bed, 
Fair  as  a  star,  and  dazzling  white, 

The  Christ-flower  raised  its  head. 

They  bore  it  home,  and  every  year, 

In  depths  of  winter  wild, 
Within  that  cot  chrysanthemums  bloom. 

Where  came  the  Holy  Child. 

Noka  Aechibalb  Smith 


ON  CHEISTMAS  EVE 

By  permissiou  of  the  Author 


ALMOST  any  man  can  say  it, 
Can  say,  "Baby,  go  to  bed" 
But  how  many  can  enforce  it, 

When  a  little  tousle-head 
Perks  his  head  up  sort  of  sideways 

In  the  way  we  daddies  know, 
And  says,  half  a  smile,  half  fearful, 
"Papa,  me  don't  'ants  to  doe." 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  153 

And  pleads,  "Me  ain't  s'eepy,  papa, 

Me  don't  'ants  to  doe  to  bed." 
And  you  see  the  curls  a-tumble 

On  the  little  baby  head  ; 
And  you  look  up  at  his  mother, 

In  a  deprecating  way, 
And  you  hide  behind  your  paper, 

And  you  let  the  baby  stay. 

Yes,  most  any  dad  can  say  it, 

Can  say,  "  Baby,  go  to  bed"  ; 
But  how  many  can  enforce  it 

When  a  little  tousle-head 
Says,  "I'nis  busy  now  a-watchin' 

For  Santa  Claus ;  don't  papa  know?" 
Smiling,  "I'ms  ain't  s'eepy,  paj)a," 

Pleading,  "  I'ms  don't  'ants  to  doe." 

Judd  MoiiTiMEit  Lewis 


CHRISTMAS,  PRITHEE 

By  permission  of  ''The  Living  Age"  Co.,  Boston 


CHRISTMAS,  prithee,  be  thou  drest 
In  thy  best- 
Snowy  wimple,  snowy  gown  — 

Laying  down 
Flooring  pure  and  white,  to  greet 
Jesu's  feet. 
Gloria  in  Excelsis. 


154  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

Bid  thy  frosty  handmaids  bear 

Through  the  air 
Cloth  of  silver,  for  thy  veil 

Clear  and  frail, 
While  the  robins  welcome  sing 

To  thy  king. 
Gloria  in  Excelsis. 

Angels  o'er  thy  radiant  brow 

Leaning  low, 
Joyous,  earol  once  again 

Sweet  refraiu, 
Seeing  our  dark  earth  so  fair, 

"Peace  be  there, 
Gloria  in  Excelsis." 


THE  CHRISTMAS  PEACEMAKER. 

By  permission  of  "  New  England  Magazine,"  Bostoa 


LIFE  was  a  series  of  abbreviations  to  Lucinda 
Ellen,  even  to  her  name,  which  had  been  cut 
down  to  Cinders. 

Time  for  Lucinda  Ellen  was  a  succession  of  weeks 
filled  in  by  blue  Mondays,  with  no  holidays,  jolly 
Saturday  afternoons  or  peaceful  Sundays  to  leaven 
the  lump.  The  world's  population  she  insensibly 
divided  into  two  classes,  with  one  crowned  head  : 
boarders  who  paid,  boarders  who  didn't,  and  Mrs. 
Stogers. 

Six  years  before,  Mrs.  Stogers  had  taken  the  child 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  155 

from  one  of  those  Homes  for  orphans  where  all  the 
little  children  wear  clothes  made  of  the  same  mate- 
rial, cut  by  one  pattern  ;  and  six  years— when  a 
person  is  but  thirteen — to  look  back  upon  is  prac- 
tically always.  During  that  time  Cinders  had 
washed  dishes,  battled  with  dust,  and  run  endless 
errands,  on  small,  weary  feet. 

Love  had  never  come  her  way.  Yet  it  did  not 
follow  that  because  nobody  loved  Lucinda  Ellen, 
she  did  not  know  what  love  was. 

She  had  always  loved  something,  if  it  had  been 
only  a  rag  doll,  and  upon  this  object,  whatever  it 
happened  to  be,  showered  a  positively  abject  devo- 
tion. It  was  the  way  she  was  made.  At  present 
her  heart's  delight  was  a  diminutive  one-eyed  cat. 
When  night  came,  and  the  last  dish  had  been 
shelved,  the  kitchen  swept,  and  the  stove  garnished 
till  it  satisfied  the  soul  of  Hannah — Mrs.  Stogers" 
prime  minister,  and,  incidentally,  cook — the  child 
would  go  wearily  up  the  many  stairs  to  her  own 
room  under  the  roof  with  its  tiny,  slanting  window 
looking  upward  at  the  stars.  The  cat  always  fol- 
lowed, and  when  Cinders  curled  herself  up  on  the 
chair  that  stood  beneath  the  window,  he  would 
spring  to  the  back  of  it,  and  say,  in  his  own  fashion, 
all  the  nice  things  he  could  think  of  to  the  forlorn 
little  maiden. 

One  evening  she  had  come  to  her  room  very  tired. 
It  had  been  a  Monday  of  deepest  indigo,  and  the 
spirit  of  the  child  had  rebelled  against  late.  A 
tierce  hatred  of  Mrs.  Stogers  and  Hannah  possessed 
ner,  and  filled  her  eyes  with  hot  tears. 


156         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

Suddenly  there  floated  through  the  room  a  souud 
so  sweet,  so  thrilling  sweet,  she  sprang  to  her  feet, 
clasping  the  cat  tightly  as  a  protection,  for  she  was 
half  afraid.  Some  one  was  playing  on  a  violin,  but 
that  the  child  did  not  know,  and  a  fancy  floated 
over  her  that  an  angel  had  slipped  down  into  Mrs. 
Stogers'  attic  on  a  bar  of  moonlight,  and  had 
brought  his  harp  with  him.  The  street-pianos  were 
her  chief  joy,  and  a  German  band,  no  matter  how 
broken- winded,  had  hitherto  filled  her  with  ecstasy  ; 
but  this  was  different, — Mrs.  Stogers'  walls  had  never 
echoed  to  such  sounds  before.  Cinders  stole  out 
into  the  hall  and  listened.  The  door  of  the  next 
room  whence  the  sound  came  was  ajar,  so  she 
pushed  it  open  quickly.  A  man  stood  there,  his 
violin  tucked  under  his  chin.  He  stopped  playing 
after  a  moment,  and  spoke  to  the  child. 

"Hello  !  "  he  said,  smiling.     "Who  are  you  ?  " 

"Cinders,"  she  answered,  drawing  a  long  breatho 
"Oh,  you  do  play  lovely,  sir  !  " 

He  laughed  and  began  tuning  his  violin.  "  Come 
in,  if  you'd  like  to.  I'll  play  again.  It's  refreshing 
to  be  appreciated.  It's  what  we  all  want,  don't  you 
know,  to  be  appreciated.  Are  you  appreciated,  lit- 
tle one1?" 

"No,  sir,"  answered  the  child.  "Oh,  no,  sir,  I 
ain't." 

' '  What  a  regular  little  witch  !  Is  that  your  famil- 
iar spirit  %     Where  did  they  ever  get  you  1 " 

"From  a  home,"  answered  Cinders.  "An' — he 
ain't  a  spirit — he's  a  cat.  An'  I  ain't  a  witch.  I 
wish't  I  was;  then  I'd  change  Mrs.  Stogers  into  a 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  157 

cow,  ail'  Hannah  into  a  monkey,  an'  I'd  turn  things 
to  gold,  an'  live  in  a  castle ;  an'  I*d  never  do  any- 
thing but  listen  to  music  like  you  played,  an"  I'd 
have  fairies  bring-  me  ice-cream  on  little  trays  every 
hour,  an'  I'd  buy  a  real  diamond  collar  for  the  cat, 
an'  I'd  marry  a  prince  ! " 

ki  Where's  your  mother?  "  asked  the  man. 

"I  haven't  any — nor  a  father — nor  nobody." 

"  We're  in  the  same  boat,  then,"  he  answered. 
"I  have  an  aunt,  who  thinks  she  owns  me,  body 
and  soul." 

"Like  Mrs.  Stogers  does  me?" 

"Yes,  probably.  But  this  aunt  of  mine  has  a 
mortgage  on  me,  unfortunately.  I  have  lived  with 
her.  I  owe  her  everything.  She  is  still  liberal. 
She  says  I  may  be  rich,  going  her  way,  with  the  al- 
ternative of  being  poor,  going  my  own.  It  can  be 
seen  which  I  have  chosen.  It  was  the  one  possible 
way  ;  a  man  can't  be  browbeaten."  He  was  talk- 
ing to  himself  now. 

"I  must  go,"  said  Cinders.  "Mrs.  Stogers 
wouldn't  let  me  be  bothering  you.  Will  you  play 
some  other  time?  " 

"I  will," 

"Thank  you,  and  good-night,  sir." 

The  melody  Cinders  had  heard  sung  itself  to  her 
till  it  put  her  to  sleep. 

Every  evening  before  Dan  Thorald  went  to  the 
theatre  to  play,  he  played  on  the  small  brown  in- 
strument, and  Cinders  and  the  cat  listened.  When 
he  returned,  he  stayed  in  his  room  writing,  as 
though  his  life  depended  upon  it.     Cinders  fretted 


158  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

at  the  thought  of  him  in  the  cold  room,  where  he 
sat,  his  overcoat  buttoned  to  his  throat. 

He  finished  his  work  and  sent  it  away,  then  tried 
to  put  in  the  time  practicing,  but  the  weather  was 
frosty,  and  his  fingers  could  not  handle  the  bow. 
Yet  he  was  not  without  hope.  If  the  opera  he  had 
sent  was  received,  he  would  go  home  for  Christmas 
victorious,  and  show  the  woman  who  thought  she 
owned  his  destiny  that  he  was  able  to  do  his  own 
work  in  the  world,  in  his  own  way.  But  what 
Thorald  did  not  count  upon  was  illness — that  thief 
in  the  night. 

One  morning,  two  weeks  before  Christmas,  he  did 
not'  come  down  to  breakfast,  and  Mrs.  Stogers 
mounted  the  steep  stairs  to  ascertain  the  reason. 
No  answer  was  given  to  her  knocking,  so,  the  door 
being  unlocked,  she  went  in.  Her  lodger  was  toss- 
ing his  head  to  and  fro  on  the  pillow.  He  called 
Mrs.  Stogers  "  Aunt  Emily,"  and  she  said  afterward 
the  way  his  eyes  stared  gave  her  chills,  so  she  sent 
him  to  the  hospital. 

Cinders  watched  the  ambulance  take  him  away, 
then  she  rushed  to  her  room  and  flung  herself  down 
on  the  floor.  She  did  not  cry,  for  it  was  past  crying 
with  Cinders.  "If  I  knew  where  that  old  aunt 
lived,  I'd  find  her,"  she  said,  sitting  up  and  gazing 
with  melancholy  eyes  at  the  cat.  "  There  might  be 
a  letter  or  something  in  that  leather  case  of  his.  I 
don't  like  lookin',  but  I  guess  I  must." 

She  went  into  the  deserted  room,  and  in  a  fever 
of  hope  and  fear  she  searched  quickly.  In  a  pocket 
of  the  dress-suit  was  a  letter  directed  to  "  Miss  Emily 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  159 

Thorald."  Then  followed  the  name  of  a  town  Cin- 
ders had  heard  mentioned  often,  for  it  was  not  far 
away.  "I'll  write,"  she  said,  rejoicing  in  the  ac- 
complishment. "Yes,  I'll  write,  an'  get  the  money 
from  my  bank  for  the  paper  and  stamps." 

This  bank  was  a  tin  building  kept  by  Mrs.  Stogers 
in  her  own  room.  Any  coin  of  the  realm  that  Cin- 
ders chanced  to  receive  she  was  condemned  to  de- 
posit therein.  Now  she  abstracted  this  building 
from  the  site  it  had  so  long  occupied,  and  shook  out 
enough  coppers  to  make  her  purchases,  then  wrote 
as  follows:  "Miss  Emily  Thorwald  :  Your  nefu  is 
took  ill  with  a  fit  of  sickness.  If  you  don't  come  to 
him  he  will  die.  There  ain't  nobody  cares  if  he 
does  or  not  but  me.  He  is  at  the  Hospittle,  and  is 
out  of  his  head.  Hana  says  the  Hospittle  is  orful. 
With  respecc,  Lucinda  Ellen." 

This  Cinders  posted,  and  waited.  More  than  a 
week  went  by.  She  escaped  once  and  went  to  the 
hospital.  The  porter  told  her  Thorald  was  very  ill, 
and  that  no  one  had  come  to  see  him.  She  made  up 
her  mind  on  the  way  home  that  she  would  go  for 
Thorald' s  aunt  herself.  There  was  a  desperate  pain 
at  her  heart  that  made  inaction  impossible. 

About  dusk  she  slipped  out  of  the  house,  dressed 
in  what  Mrs.  Stogers  called  her  best  clothes,  the  tin 
I  tank  clasped  to  her  breast.  The  cat  followed,  scent- 
ing adventure  in  the  air.  The  city  looked  gay  and 
bright.  The  great  buildings  were  trimmed  with  the 
snow's  ermine  and  the  frost's  laee,  as  in  honor  of  the 
approaching  feast-day.  There  was  cedar  before  the 
Shops  and   bunches  of  glistening   holly  behind  Hie 


160         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

windows.  She  passed  butcher  shops  where  rows  arid 
rows  of  turkeys,  all  butchered  to  make  a  Christmas 
holiday,  aud  where  pigs  of  cheerful  countenance, 
adorned  with  paper  roses,  and  holding  lemons  in 
their  mouths,  appeared  to  rejoice  in  their  fate.  On 
and  on  sped  her  light  footsteps,  for  she  knew  the 
way.  Silver  sleigh-bells  rang  on  the  frosty  air,  but 
she  did  not  know  she  heard  them. 

The  man  in  the  ticket- office  at  the  station  stared 
as  she  asked  for  her  ticket  and  handed  him  the  tin 
bank. 

"Break  it  open,"  said  Cinders,  "and  take  out 
the  money,  please.  I  think  there's  enough.  I  tried 
to  get  it  open,  but  I  couldn't." 

So  far  her  faith  in  humanity  had  not  been  in 
error.  The  official  wrenched  the  box  open,  took 
the  needed  amount,  and  handed  back  the  rest  with 
the  ticket.  People  were  all  kind,  she  thought — the 
brakemau  who  helped  her  aboard  the  train,  the  con- 
ductor, all  of  them. 

Perhaps  it  was  because  the  Christmas  spirit  was 
abroad  in  the  land,  or  else  that  the  serious  little  face, 
framed  in  its  bronze  brown  hair  ;  the  tremulous  red 
lips  and  eager,  appealing  eyes,  were  hard  to  re- 
sist. 

The  train  sped  on,  and  Cinders  waited,  the  cat, 
who  had  escaped  all  pursuit,  purring  calmly  beside 
her.  When  the  station  was  reached,  she  went  to  the 
driver  of  an  ancient  cab  and  asked  him  if  he  could 
take  her  to  Miss  Thorald's  house,  "I  want  to  get 
there  very  quickly,"  she  said,  "and  here's  the 
money,"  handing  him  the  balance  on  hand. 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  161 

"All  right,  lady/'  he  answered  ;  "  get  right  in. 
Ye' 11  be  there  in  a  jiffy.". 

"If  it  had  been  daylight  he  wouldn't  have  called 
me  that,"'  thought  the  child.  As  to  how  she  should 
return  she  did  not  trouble.  No  thought  of  Mrs. 
Stogers  disturbed  her.  No  fear,  though  the  hour 
was  late  and  the  place  strange.  One  idea  alone 
held  her  mind. 

After  a  little  while  the  cab. drew  up  before  such  a 
house  as  Cinders  had  seen  in  pictures.  She  went  up 
the  steps  and  pulled  the  great  brass  bell-knob.  A 
stiff,  wooden-looking  man  answered  the  door. 

"I  want  Miss  Thorald,"  Cinders  said  eagerly, 
"an'  I  want  her  at  once,  if  you  please." 

The  butler  led  her  in  and  went  for  his  mistress. 

Cinders  sprang  to  her  with  outstretched  arms. 

"Why  didn't  you  cornel"  she  cried  reproach- 
fully. "I  told  you  how  ill  he  was.  Are  you  so 
angry  you  will  let  him  die  all  alone?  " 

The  woman  grew  white  and  caught  her  breath 
strangely.  "I  don't  understand.  Who  are  you, 
child  ?    What  have  you  come  for  ?  " 

Little  by  little  Cinders  told  her  story — of 
the  man  in  his  attic  room  ;  of  the  music  she  loved  ; 
of  the  opera  that  had  been  sent  away  ;  of  the  cold 
days  and  nights.  It  was  a  childish  tale,  mixed 
in  the  telling,  but  the  listener  understood  at 
last. 

"  If  they  took  his  opera  in  New  York  he  was  com 
ing  home  for  Christmas  ;  when  people  are  successful 
they    come    home.     When    they   ain't,    why  they 
don't,"  Cinders  ended  gravely. 


162  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

"My  proud  boy,"  said  the  woman,  her  lips 
quivering  ;  "  my  proud  boy  ! " 

Then  she  kissed  Cinders. 

"  It  was  very  queer  to  be  kissed,"  Cinders  thought^ 
as  she  lay  that  night  in  a  little  white  bed  in  one  of 
the  beautiful  rooms.  It  had  not  been  possible  to 
reach  the  city  till  next  morning.  At  noon  Miss 
Thorald  entered  the  white  hospital  ward  and  found 
the  one  she  sought.  But  it  was  not  that  day  that 
he  knew  her,  nor  the  next.  She  listened  to  him  talk- 
ing— of  the  hours  spent  in  the  cold,  lonely  room — of 
his  work — of  Cinders,  the  only  one  who  seemed  to 
care,  and  she  prayed  as  she  listened. 

As  for  Cinders,  Miss  Thorald  kept  the  child  with 
her ;  for  there  are  ways  of  settling  things  when  one 
has  a  friend  rich  and  determined,  and  Cinders  had 
found  such  a  friend. 

It  was  Christmas  day  that  they  went  together  into 
the  ward  where  Dan  Thorald  lay.  He  would  know 
them,  the  nurse  said. 

"Why,  it's  Cinders  and  Aunt  Emily,"  he  cried 
weakly,  as  they  came  near. 

"I  guess  you  don't  know  it's  Christmas,"  said 
Cinders,  with  tear-filled  eyes. 

' '  Christmas  !  No,  but  I  might  have,  I've  got  such 
a  lot  of  presents — Aunt  Emily,  and  you,  little  one,and 
this  victorious  letter  from  New  York.  Mrs.  Stogers 
brought  it.  A.t  first  the  nurse  wouldn't  let  me  read 
it,  for  fear  excitement  would  kill  me.  I  told  her  I'd 
die  if  she  didn't.     That  ended  it." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad,  so  glad,"  cried  Cinders,  clasp- 
ing her  hands. 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

"  I  knew  I  could  count  on  you  ;  but  Aunt  Emily, 
you  won't  mind  if  I  go  my  own  way — now  ?  It  will 
be  a  successful  one." 

"Go  your  own  way,  dear  boy,"  she  answered, 
softly,  "  I  will  follow.  It  is  what  women  always  do 
— in  the  end.  I  mind  nothing — for  I  have  you  again 
—my  Christmas  gift — from  God." 

Virna  Sheard 


SANTA  CLATTS  IN  HOLLAND 

By  permission  of"  The  Ladies'  World,"  New  York 


"VTCAV,  children,  listen  to  my  tale  — 
-L*      Believe  me,  it  is  true  ; 
When  Santa  Claus  to  Holland  goes 
He  looks  'round  for  a  shoe. 

He  finds  it  near  the  chimney,  wide, 
Where  you  a  stocking  hang  ; 

And  when  the  house  is  dark  and  still 
Old  Santa,  with  a  bang, 

Comes  tumbling  down  into  the  room 
Where  Hans  and  Gretchen  lie, 

And  looks  'round  for  the  wooden  shoes; 
Soon  as  they  meet  his  eye, 

If  Gretchen's  words  have  gentle  been 
Through  all  the  loiig  year  past ; 


<64         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

If  Hans  has  been  a  thoughtful  boy, 
Theu  Santa  Claus  will  cast 

Into  each  little  wooden  shoe 

Knives,  marbles,  dolls  and  toys  ; 

For,  don't  you  see,  he  knows  right  well 
What  pleases  girls  and  boys. 

But  if  their  words  have  angry  been, 

With  quarrels  not  a  few, 
Ah,  then  old  Santa  leaves  a  whip 

Within  each  wooden  shoe  ! 

So  little  Hans  and  Gretchen  try 

To  be  so  good  and  kind, 
That  they  shall  never  in  their  shoes 

A  whip,  on  Christmas,  find. 

Helen  M.  Richardson 


CHRISTMAS  GREETING 

3y  permission  of :' School  and  Home  Education,"  Bloomington,  IIL 


WE  hope  your  Christmas  will  be  merry, 
And  each  fare  well  by  Santa  Claus. 
All  care  and  trouble  try  to  bury, 
Let  Joy  and  Pleasure  be  your  cause. 

Your  presence  gives  us  happy  hearts, 

The  world  is  bright  before  us. 
May  life  be  full  of  cakes  and  tarts, 

Aud  all  good  things  come  o'er  us. 


CHRISTALAS  SELECTIONS  165 

CHRISTMAS  EVE 

By  permission  of  "The  Outlook,"  New  York 


OUTSIDE  my  window  whirls  the  icy  storm 
And  beats  upon  its  panes  with  fingers  white ; 
Within,  my  open  fire  burns  bright  and  warm, 
And  sends  throughout  the  room  its  ruddy  light. 

Low  on  the  hearth  my  good  grimalkin  lies, 
His  supple,  glossy  limbs  outstretched  along  ; 

Now  gently  sleeps  with  softly  closed  eyes, 
Now  half  awakened,  purrs  his  evening  song. 

Near  to  the  fire,  touched  by  its  geutle  heat, 
A  silent,  welcome  friend,  my  armchair  stands  ; 

Its  cushioned  depths  invite  me  to  its  seat, 
And  promise  rest  for  weary  head  and  hands. 

Within  its  depths  mine  eyes  unheeded  close, 
And  comes  to  me  a  vision  wondrous  sweet. 

Such  sights  and  sounds  no  wakeful  hours  disclose 
As  then  my  resting,  dreaming  senses  greet. 

I  am  where  gentle  shepherds  on  the  plain 

Keep  sleepless,  faithful  watch  o'er  resting  sheep  ; 

I  hear  them  chant  the  psalmist's  sweet  refrain, 
That  Israel's  God  will  sure  His  promise  keep. 

Then  quick  the  air  is  full  of  heav'uly  song, 
And  radiant  light  illumines  all  the  ground, 

While  angel  voices  sweet  the  .strain  prolong, 
And  angel  faces  shine  in  glory  round. 


166         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

T  see  the  shepherds'  faces  pale  with  fear, 

Then  glow  with  joy  and  glad  surprise,  for  then  — 

"Glory  to  God  !  "  from  angel  lips  they  hear, 
And  "  Peace  on  earth,  good  will  to  men." 

And  then  the  light  marks  out  a  shining  way, 
And  swift  the  shepherds  are  the  path  to  take. 

I  long  to  go  :  oh,  laggard  feet,  why  stay? 
Alas  !  the  vision  fades,  and  I  awake. 

Within,  the  smold'ring  fire  is  burning  dim  ; 

Without,  the  whirl  and  beat  of  storm  have  ceased. 
I  still  can  hear  the  angels'  peaceful  hymn, 

Aud  know  the  vision  hath  my  peace  increased. 

Frank  E.  Brown 


CHFJSTOBAL 

By  permission  of  Lothrop,  Lee  and  Shepard  Co.,  Bostcu 



IONG  ago,  in  fair  Burgundy,  lived  a  lad  named 
J  Christobal.  His  large  dark  eyes  lay  under  the 
fringe  of  his  lids,  full  of  shadows  ;  eyes  as  lustrous 
as  purple  amethysts,  and  alas  !  as  sightless.  He  had 
not  always  been  blind,  as  perhaps  a  wild  and  pas- 
sionate lad,  named  Jasper,  might  have  told  you. 
On  a  certain  Christmas  Eve,  long  before,  a  merry 
boy  was  little  Christobal,  as  he  pattered  along  to 
church,  trying  with  his  wooden  shoes  to  keep  time 
to   the  dancing   bells.     In   his  hand  he  carried  a 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS         167 

Christinas  candle  of  various  colors.  Never,  he 
thought;  was  a  rainbow  as  exquisitely  tinted  as 
that  candle.  Carefully  he  watched  it  when  it 
winked  its  sleepy  eye,  eagerly  begging  his  mamma 
to  snuff  it  awake  again.  How  gayly  the  streets 
twinkled  with  midnight  lanterns  !  And  how  morti- 
fying to  the  stars  to  be  outdone  by  such  a  grand 
illumination  ! 

A  new  painting  had  just  been  hung  in  the  church, 
called  by  the  people  The  Holy  Child,  with  an 
aureole  about  his  head.  Christobal  looked  at  this 
picture  with  revereut  delight ;  and,  to  his  surprise, 
the  Holy  Child  returned  his  gaze:  wherever  he 
went  the  sweet,  sorrowful  eyes  followed  him. 
There  was  a  wondrous  charm  in  that  pleading 
glance.  Why  was  it  so  wistful  ?  What  had  those 
deep  eyes  to  say  ? 

The  air  was  cloudy  with  the  breath  of  frankin- 
cense and  myrrh.  Deep  voices  and  the  heavy  organ 
sounded  chants  and  anthems.  There  were  hymns 
and  prayers  to  the  coming  Messiah,  but  at  last, 
the  service  was  ended.  Then,  in  tumult  and 
great  haste,  the  people  went  home  for  merry-mak- 
ings. Christobal,  eager  to  see  what  the  Yule-log 
might  have  in  store  for  him,  rushed  out  of  the 
church  with  careless  speed,  stumbling  over  a  boy 
who  stood  in  his  way,— the  haughty,  insolent  Jas- 
per. Jasper's  beautiful  Christmas  candle  was 
cracked  in  twenty  pieces  by  his  fall. 

"  I'll  teach  you  better  manners,  young  peasant ! " 
Cried  he,  rushing  upon  Christobal  in  a  frenzy,  and 
dealing  tierce  blows  without  mercy  or  reason.     It 


i68         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

was  then  that  Chvistobal's  eyes  weut  out  like  fulling 
stars.  Their  lustre  and  beauty  remained  ;  but  they 
were  empty  caskets,  their  vision  gone.  Then  fol- 
lowed terrible  anguish  ;  and  all  Christobal's  mother 
could  do  was  to  hold  her  boy  in  her  arms,  and  soothe 
him  by  singing.  At  last  the  fever  was  spent ;  but 
the  pain  still  throbbed  on,  and  sometimes  seemed  to 
burn  into  Christobal's  brain.  He  cried  out  again 
and  again,  "What  right  had  that  fierce  Jasper  to 
spring  upon  me  so  ?  I  meant  him  no  harm  ;  and  he 
knew  it.  Oh,  I  would  like  to  see  him  chained  in  a 
den  !  He  is  like  the  wicked  people  who  are  turned 
into  wolves  at  Christmas-tide.  I  would  cry  for 
joy  if  I  could  hear  him  groan  with  such  pain  as 
mine ! " 

Poor  Christobal  never  hoped  to  see  again.  He 
carried  in  his  mind  pictures  of  cities  and  hamlets,  of 
trees,  flowers,  and  old,  familiar  faces ;  but  oftenest 
came  Jasper's  face,  just  as  it  had  glared  on  him  with 
bloodthirsty  eyes.  It  was  a  terrible  countenance. 
Only  one  charm  could  dispel  the  horror, — the 
remembrance  of  the  beautiful  Child  iu  the  church. 
That  picture  blotted  out  everything  else.  It  was 
like  the  refrain  in  the  Burgundian  carols,  "Noel, 
Noel,"  which  comes  again  and  again,  and  never 
tires. 

A  year  passed.  Christobal's  mother  only  prayed 
now  that  her  boy  might  suffer  less  i  she  had  ceased 
to  pray  for  the  healing  of  his  blindness. 

Now  it  was  Christmas-tide  again.  Ever  since 
Advent,  people  had  been  singing  carols  They 
roasted  chestnuts,  and  chanted  praises  of  the  Mes- 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  i6g 

siah,  who  was  soon  to  conic,  bringing  peace  on 
earth,  good-will  to  men.  The  children  began  to 
talk  again  of  the  Yule-log,  and  to  wonder  what  gifts 
Noel  would  bring  to  place  under  each  end  of  it  : 
for  these  little  folks,  who  have  no  stocking- saint 
like  our  Santa  Claus,  believe  in  another  quite  as 
good,  who  rains  down  sugar-plums  in  the  night. 

Everywhere  there  was  a  joyful  bustle.  House- 
wives were  making  ready  their  choicest  dishes  for 
the  great  Christmas  supper ;  fathers  were  slyly 
peeping  into  shop  windows,  and  children  hoarding 
their  sous  and  centimes  for  bonbons  and  comfits. 
Everybody  was  merry  but  Christobal ;  or  so  thought 
the  lad.  He  had  no  money  to  spend,  and  little  but 
pain  for  his  holiday  cheer.  A  patch  here  and  there 
in  his  worn  clothes  was  the  best  present  his  thrifty 
mother  was  able  to  make;  always  excepting  the 
little  variegated  taper,  which  few  were  too  poor  to 
buy. 

Christinas  Eve  came.  Family  friends  dropped  in. 
The  Yule-log  was  set  on  the  fire  with  shouts  and 
singing.  "  Oh,  that  I  could  see  these  kiud  faces  !  " 
moaned  Christobal.  "  No  doubt  Jasper's  chestnuts 
are  popping  merrily  ;  and  his  shoes  will  be  full  of 
presents.  And  here  am  I !  My  head  aches,  and  my 
eyeballs  burn  !" 

He  stole  out  of  the  room,  and,  throwing  himself 
on  ;i  wicker  bench,  mused  over  his  troubles  in  soli- 
tude. One  might  have  supposed  him  sleeping;  for 
how  should  one  imagine  that  his  beautiful  eyes  were 
of  no  manner  of  use.  except  when  they  were  closed  I 
When  Christobal  said,  "  Let   me  see,"  lie  dropped 


!7o  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

his  eyelids  5  and  wbat  be  saw  then,  no  artist  can 
paint. 

On  this  night,  a  beautiful  Child  appeared  before 
him,  as  like  the  picture  of  The  Holy  Child  as  if  it 
had  stepped  out  of  its  frame  on  the  church- wall.  "  J 
saw  you,  Christobal,  when  you  came  before  me  with 
your  colored  candle,  one  year  ago." 

"  I  knew  it,  I  knew  it ! "  cried  Christobal,  clap- 
ping his  hands  in  awe.  "I  saw  your  eyes  follow 
me  ;  and  I  never  once  turned  but  you  were  looking. 
They  told  me  it  was  only  a  picture ;  but  I  said  for 
that  very  reason  your  eyes  were  sorrowful, — you 
longed  to  be  alive." 

The  Child  replied  by  a  slight  motion  of  the  head  ; 
and  the  aureole  trembled  like  sunlight  on  the  water. 
The  longer  Christobal  gazed,  the  more  courage  he 
gathered.  "Lovely  vision,"  said  he,  "if  vision 
you  may  be, — I  have  said  to  myself,  I  would  gladly 
walk  to  Eome  with  peas  in  my  shoes,  if  I  could 
kuow  what  you  wished  to  say  to  me  that  night." 

"Only  this,  little  brother:  Are  you  ready  for 
Christmas?" 

"Alas,  no!  I  never  am.  I  have  only  two  sous 
in  the  world." 

"Poor  Christobal!  Yet  without  a  centime,  one 
may  be  ready  for  Christmas." 

"  But  I  am  so  very  unhappy  ! " 

"You  do  indeed  look  sad,  little  brother:  where 
is  your  pain1?" 

"In  my  eyes,"  moaned  the  boy,  pouring  out  the 
words  with  a  sense  of  relief,  for  he  was  sure  they 
dropped  into  a  pitying  heart.     "Since  I  saw  you 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  171 

last  I  have  been  wickedly  injured.  Now  T  have 
always  a  pain  in  my  eyes:  there  are  two  flames 
behind  them,  which  burn  day  and  night." 

"  I  grieve  for  you,"  said  the  Child,  with  exquisite 
tenderness;  "yet,  dear  boy,  for  all  that,  you  might 
be  ready  for  Christmas  :  but  is  there  not  also  a  pain 
throbbing  and  burning  in  your  heart?" 

1 '  Oh,  if  you  mean  that,  I  am  tossed  up  and  down 
by  vexation  :  I  am  full  of  hatred  against  that  ter- 
rible Jasper.  It  was  all  about  a  miserable  Christ- 
mas candle  he  carried.  I  broke  it  by  pushing  him 
down.  Tell  me,  was  he  right  to  fly  at  me  like  a 
wild  beast?  Ought  he  not  to  suffer  even  as  I  have 
suffered?  Is  it  just,  is  it  right,  for  the  great  man's 
sou  to  put  out  a  j)easant  boy's  eyes,  and  be  happy 
again?" 

"Misguided  Jasper!"  said  the  Child,  solemnly  j 
"let  him  answer  for  his  own  sin  :  judge  not,  little 
brother." 

Christobal  hid  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  wept 
for  shame, 

"Shall  I  give  you  teu  golden  words  for  a  Christ- 
mas gift !  Will  you  hide  them  in  your  heart  and 
be  happy?" 

"1  will,"  answered  Christobal. 

"They  are  these,"  said  the  Child.  "Pray  for 
them  which  despitefully  use  you  and  persecute  you." 

Christobal  repeated  the  words,  a  soft  light  steal 
ing  over  his  face.     "I  will  remember,"  he  said, 
looking  up  to  meet  the  pleading  eyes  of  the  Child  : 
but,  lo  !  the  whole  face  had  melted  into  the  aureole  ; 
nothing  was  left  but  light.    Yet  Christobal  was  tilled 


172         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

with  a  new  joy ;  and,  as  lie  opened  his  eyes,  hi» 
dream,  if  dream,  it  were — changed,  becoming  as 
sweet  and  solemn  as  a  prayer.  It  seemed  to  hi  in 
that  the  roof  of  the  cottage  glittered  with  stars,  and 
was  no  longer  a  roof,  but  the  boundless  sky  ;  and, 
afar  off,  like  remembered  music,  a  voice  fell  on  his 
ear,  "For  if  ye  forgive  men  their  trespasses,  your 
heavenly  Father  will  also  forgive  you  your  tres- 
passes." 

Christobal  arose,  and,  although  still  blind,  walked 
in  light.  "It  is  the  aureole  which  has  stolen  into 
my  heart,"  thought  Christobal.  "The  pain  and 
hate  are  all  gone.  Now  I  am  ready  for  Christmas. 
I  wish  I  could  help  poor  Jasper,  who  has  such  a 
weight  of  guilt  to  carry  !  " 

Next  day,  Burgundy  saw  no  happier  boy  than 
Christobal.  He  walked  in  the  procession  at  night, 
carrying  a  caudle  whose  light  he  could  not  see  ;  but 
what  did  it  signify,  since  there  was  light  in  his 
soul  1 

Hark  !  In  the  midst  of  the  Christmas  chimes 
breaks  the  jangling  of  fire- bells.  The  Count's  house 
is  on  fire  !  The  sparks  pour  out  thicker  and  faster  ; 
tongues  of  flame  leap  to  the  sky  ;  the  bells  clang 
hoarsely  ;  the  Christmas  procession  is  broken  into 
wild  disorder  ;  the  wheels  of  the  engine  roll  through 
the  streets,  unheard  in  the  din.  Christobal  rushed 
eagerly  toward  the  flames,  but  was  pulled  away  by 
the  people.  "We  cannot  drown  the  fire',"  they 
cried;  "the  building  must  fall  !  Are  the  inmates 
all  safe?" 

"All,  thank  heaven!"  cried  the  Count.     "No; 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  173 

Jasper!  See!  he  waves  his  hand  from  the  third 
story  !     Save  him  !  save  my  boy  !" 

Jasper  had  set  fire  to  a  curtain  with  his  fatal 
Christmas  candle.  Now  he  raved  and  shouted  in 
vain  :  no  oue  would  venture  up  the  ladder. 

"O  Holy  Child,"  whispered  Christobal,  "give 
light  to  my  eyes,  even  as  unto  my  soul  !  Let  me 
save  Jasper !" 

At  once  the  iron  band  fell  from  Christobal's 
vision.  He  saw,  and,  at  the  same  moment,  felt  a 
supernatural  strength.  He  tore  away  from  the  re- 
straining arms  of  the  people ;  he  rushed  up  the  lad- 
der, and  reached  the  window,  heedless  of  his  scorched 
arms.  "Jasper!"  he  cried,  seizing  the  half-con- 
scious boy,  "be  not  afraid  :  I  have  the  strength  to 
carry  you."  And  dowu  the  ladder  he  bore  him, 
step  by  step,  through  the  crackling  flames.  Jasper 
was  revived  ;  and  the  fainting  Christobal  was  borne 
through  the  streets  in  the  arms  of  the  populace. 

"  Wonder  of  wonders  ! "  was  the  cry. 

"It  was  The  Holy  Child,"  gasped  Christobal. 
"  He  opened  my  eyes ;  he  guided  me  up  the  ladder, 
and  down  again  !" 

"  Hallelujah  ! "  cried  the  people.  "  On  the  birth- 
day of  our  Lord,  the  blind  receive  their  sight." 

"It  is  a  triumph  of  faith,"  said  some  rever- 
ently. 

"A  miracle,"  murmured  others. 

"Not  a  miracle,"  replied  the  wise  doctors,  after 
they  had  first  consulted  their  books  ;  "it  is  only  t  he 
electrifying  of  the  optic  nerve." 

"  Dear    little    Christobal,"    sobbed    the    broken- 


174  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

hearted  Jasper,  "how  could  you  forgive  such  a 
wicked  boy  as  I?" 

"It  was  very  easy,"  replied  Christobal,  "when 
ouce  The  Holy  Child  called  me  'brother,'  aud  bade 
rae  pray  for  you." 

"  Oh,  that  I  could  repay  you  for  your  wonderful 
deed  of  love,"  said  Jasper,  through  his  tears. 

"Do  not  thank  me,"  whispered  Christobal,  with 
a  look  of  awe  ;  "  thank  The  Holy  Child.  And  when 
he  comes  again  next  year,  to  ask  what  feelings  we 
hold  in  our  hearts,  let  us  both  be  ready  for  Christ- 
mas." Sophie  May 


AT  CHRISTMAS-TIDE 

By  permission  of  "The  Ladies'  World,"  New  York 


AT  Christmas-tide,  fair  friends,  forego 
Your  ancient  feuds,  and  far  and  wide 
Disseminate  love's  golden  glow, 
At  Christmas-tide. 

In  fellowship  and  faith  abide, 
Deny  to  all  the  name  of  foe, 
For  sake  of  Christ,  the  Crucified. 
At  Christmas-tide. 

Rejoice  in  Error's  overthrow, 

Refute  the  doubters  that  deride, 
And  loud  the  Gospel  bugle  blow, 
At  Christmas-tide. 

Susie  M.  Best 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  175 

COMIN'  CHRISTMAS  MORN 

By  permission  of  Messrs.  Forbea  &  Co.,  Chicago 


(Should  be  given  in  Santa  Clam  costume) 

I'M  goin'  to  start  next  Saturday  ; 
It  won't  take  more' 11  a  day 
To  visit  the  United  States 

In  my  new  toboggan  sleigh. 
I'  ve  sent  Jack  Frost  ahead  o'  me 

To  sort  o'  find  a  road, 
So  my  deers  '11  find  it  easy 
'Cause  I've  got  an  awful  load. 

But  they've  had  lots  o'  exercise, 

An'  know  the  way  by  sight ; 
I've  speeded  them  to  Baffin's  Bay 

An'  back  here  'fore  'twas  night. 
An'  once  I  drove  to  Puget's  Sound 

An'  once  to  Behring  Sea  ; 
I  had  ter  make  a  trip  up  there 

To  get  a  Christmas  tree. 

I  wish't  you  all  could  see  my  house, 

Built  out  o'  cakes  o'  ice  ; 
I  guess  you  think  it  cold  inside, 

But  no,  it's  awful  nice. 
All  carpeted  with  sealskin  rugs, 

An'  ermine,  mink  and  sable; 
I'm  going  to  keep  it  furnished  so 

As  long  as  I  am  able. 


176  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

An'  no  gomphobers  in  the  north 

Can  steal  'round  unawares, 
Because  my  castle's  guarded  by 

Two  great  big  polar  bears. 
So  if  a  burglar  man  should  come 

An'  try  to  break  into  it 
They'd  squeeze  his  life  out  in  a  jif, 

I've  taught  'em  how  to  do  it. 

Just  right  around  behind  my  house 

Is  where  I  keep  the  toys, 
That  I  am  comin'  southward  with, 

Fer  all  good  girls  an'  boys. 
My  big  cold  storage  warehouse  stands 

Eight  by  a  frozen  tarn, 
An'  right  along  aside  o'  it 

I  have  my  reindeer's  barn. 

So  never  mind,  they're  both  piled  full 

Of  everything  on  earth 
With  Christmas  gifts  till  you  can't  rest, 

I  don't  know  what  they're  worth. 
An'  four  big  sea  dogs  set  outside, 

Two  walruses,  a  seal 
That  knows  so  much  if  you'd  come  nigh 

He'd  be  the  first  to  squeal. 

The  purtiest  sight  you  ever  saw 
'S  when  things  is  lit  up  nights  — 

You  know  we  don't  have  gas  up  here, 
But  use  the  Northern  Lights. 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  17 

An'  forth  from  every  icicle 

A  dazzle  spreads  away 
That  turns  the  hull  big  frozen  zone 

Into  one  mighty  day. 

From  where  I  live  I'd  have  you  know, 

It's  truth,  upon  my  soul, 
I  don' t  have  very  far  to  go 

To  see  the  big  North  Pole, 
Where  Uncle  Sam  has  pinned  his  flag, 

There's  where  the  cold  wind  pipes, 
And  flaunts  the  emblem  of  the  brave, 

The  proud  old  stars  and  stripes. 

I'm  coming,  children,  coming,  yes, 

You  ought  to  see  my  sleigh, 
And  hear  the  tinkle,  tinkle,  as 

I  speed  along  the  way. 
Through  forests  bare,  o'er  snowy  plains, 

As  sure  as  you  are  born, 
Old  Santa  Claus  is  coming,  and 

Will  be  here  Christmas  morn. 

Ben  King 


A  CHAPTER  FROM  HUSTLER'S  CAMP. 

By  permission  of  "The  Epworth  Herald,"  Chicago 


HUSTLER'S  CAMP  was  somewhat  exercised  over 
the  newcomer,  who,  in  truth,  did  not  look  as 
if  he  belonged  there.     A  number  of  men  paused  ill 


178  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

their  work  aud  looked  after  the  figure  in  rusty  black 
as  it  descended  the  rugged  path  on  the  hillside, — a 
slender  figure  and  slightly  stooped,  with  gray  show- 
ing plainly  in  the  fringe  of  hair  beneath  the  well- 
worn  hat. 

; '  He  said  he  was  a  colored  porter,  but  he  was  a 
lyin',"  observed  Dirk  Collins.  "He  ain't  no  more 
of  a  nigger  'n  I  am " 

"  Which  ain't  sayin'  much  for  the  difference,"  in- 
terposed a  companion,  with  a  glance  at  the  naturally 
dark  face  now  long  unshaven  and  browned  and 
roughened  by  years  of  exposure. 

Dirk  waited  until  the  laugh  at  his  expense  had 
subsided,  then  calmly  proceeded  :  "  An'  he  ain't  no 
porter,  neither,  never  was  ;  anybody  can  see  that  by 
lookin'  at  him.  Nigh  as  I  can  make  out  he's  some 
kind  of  a  book-peddler." 

"  One  o'  them  tract  slingers,  likely,  an'  he's  come 
to  a  poor  market,"  said  a  brawny  fellow  named 
Sam. 

Little  Jim  leaned  on  his  pick  and  looked  wistfully 
after  the  retreating  form.  Jim  was  only  a  boy,  who 
had  drifted  into  the  camp,  nobody  knew  how  01 
from  where,  and  they  had  all  fallen  into  the  way  of 
calling  him  "Little  Jim,"  though  he  undertook  a 
man's  work  with  a  courage  that  won  for  him  what 
no  amount  of  asking  could  have  done,  and  he  was 
allowed  to  stay.  It  was  not  the  proper  place  for  a 
boy,  one  would  have  said,  but  there  was  no  proper 
place  on  earth  for  Jim,  so  far  as  his  few  years  on  earth 
had  enabled  him  to  discover ;  and  this  one,  rough 
as  it  might  be,  was  not  the  worst  he  had  knowu. 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  179 

If  occasionally  ill-luck  or  much  drink  rendered  some 
oue  tyrannical  or  abusive,  there  was  usually  some- 
body else  sufficiently  generous  or  sufficiently  quar 
relsome  to  interfere  in  the  boy's  behalf. 

••An'  they're  a  good  deal  like  this  yere  mine — 
mighty  rough  and  unproinisin'  on  top,  but  with 
good  streaks  iu  'em,  if  ye  can  once  git  down  to  'em. 
I  wish  that  book  man  could  do  it." 

It  did  not  seem  a  probable  consummation.  The 
newcomer  was  gently  patient,  but  persistent  aud 
very  much  iu  earnest.  If  his  attempts  to  enter  into 
conversation  were  rudely  repulsed  one  day,  his  tone 
the  next  had  lost  none  of  its  kindness.  If  his  invi- 
tation to  a  meeting  was  refused  with  a  curse  or  a 
sneer,  it  did  not  prevent  the  proffer  of  a  leaflet.  He 
scattered  them  everywhere. 

"You  can  track  that  feller  all  over  the  diggin's 
by  'em,"  grumbled  Dirk,  holding  up  one.  "It's 
all  the  job  I  want  to  scratch  along  in  this  world,  an' 
I  hain't  no  time  to 'tend  to  no  other.  It's  gittin' 
monotonous,  an1  I  wish  he'd  git  out  o'  this." 

"He  won't  till  he's  starved  out,  but  that  ought 
to  be  before  long,"  declared  Sam.  "He's  gittin' 
thinner' n  more  bent  over  every  day.  If  he  hain't 
sense  enough  to  know  when  he's  struck  a  place  that 
won't  pay,  'twould  be  a  mercy  to  give  him  a  hint." 

"A  good  histin' — one  that  would  skip  him  out 
lively,"  interposed  another  voice. 

The  irritable  wish  and  rough  jest  were  bandied 
about  until  they  gradually  changed  to  a  purpose,  a 
pian  born  of  a  moment's  caprice  -the  irresponsible 
mood  of  a  crowd. 


i8o         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

"The  next  time  we  git  sight  of  him  anywheres 
we'll  lay  down  the  law,  an'  give  him  twelve  hours 
to  skip  out  o'  this." 

Little  Jim  listened  uueasily. 

"You  don't  have  to  wait  to  git  sight  of  him  ;  I 
can  tell  you  where  to  find  him,"  he  said,  with  a 
sudden  resolution.  "He  lives  in  that  little  old 
cabin  up  round  the  turn,  'cross  the  gully." 

"Ho  !  Come  to  stay,  has  he,  an'  got  his  uest  all 
fixed?  It's  likely  he'll  change  his  mind.  We'll  go 
up  there  to-night.  It's  Christmas  Eve,  an'  we  got 
to  have  some  sort  of  a  celebration." 

When  night  fell  a  self-appointed  committee  of 
five  men  drew  toward  the  light  that  streamed  from 
the  cabiu.  Home  missionary  dwellings  are  not 
usually  sumptuous  in  their  furnishings,  and  the 
little  log  cabin  on  the  hillside  had  no  soft  hangings 
to  shut  out  the  gathering  darkness.  The  interior 
was  clearly  revealed  to  the  committee.  No  lone 
man  bending  over  tracts  or  Bible  ;  but  a  neat  room, 
plain  almost  to  bareness,  but  wondrously  bright  and 
homelike  to  those  eyes  which  had  seen  nothing  like 
a  home  for  so  long.  There  was  a  strip  of  rag  carpet 
on  the  freshly-scrubbed  floor,  a  print  framed  in 
twisted  branches  on  the  wall,  a  home-made  lounge, 
with  a  pale-faced  woman  reclining  upon  it,  while  a 
little  girl,  with  a  grave,  housewifely  air,  was  brush- 
ing up  the  hearth. 

Involuntarily  the  men  drew  nearer  to  the  window 
and  gazed.  Before  any  one  had  time  to  utter  a 
word  the  little  girl,  turning,  caught  sight  of  some 
one,  and  eagerly  threw  opeu  the  door. 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  181 

"  Is  it  you,  papa?  "  she  called. 

"Sissy,  is  your  pa  in?"  asked  Dirk,  lamely 
enough,  as  they  fouud  themselves  discovered. 

"Not  yet,  but  we're  looking  for  him.  Won't 
you  come  in?"  answered  the  small  hostess,  a  trifle 
dismayed,  but  rallying  her  hospitality. 

The  five  men  filed  solemnly  into  the  cabin.  There 
was  a  limited  supply  of  chairs,  but  with  a  rude 
bench  and  a  little  crowding,  they  were  all  seated. 
The  invalid  on  the  lounge  attempted  to  speak  to 
them,  but  the  weak  voice  failed  to  make  itself 
understood  by  any  one  but  the  watchful  young 
nurse. 

"Yes,  mamma.  She  wants  to  tell  you,"  turning 
to  the  visitors,  "that  papa' 11  be  home  soon;  but 
she  can't  talk  much  yet,  'cause  she's  been  so  sick. 
I  guess  it  was  the  way  the  roof  leaked  made  her 
take  cold  ;  but  papa  patched  it,  and  I'm  keeping 
house  now  so  she  will  get  rested  and  strong.  I  can 
do  it  pretty  well." 

"'Course,  sissy,  you  do  it  first-rate,"  declared 
Sam,  as  if  he  had  made  a  study  of  housekeeping. 

She  was  only  a  plain,  brown-faced  little  maiden, 
enveloped  in  a  coarse  check-apron,  but  she  and  her 
surroundings  seemed  to  have  a  wonderful  fascination 
for  these  strange  guests. 

When  she  attempted  to  replenish  the  fire,  Dirk 
proffered  his  assistance. 

"My  hands  is  bigger' n  yours,  sissy — see  how 
much  bigger  !  "  and  he  gazed  at  the  small  lingers  as 
if  the  child's  hand  were  a  marvel. 

When  for  a  few  minutes  she  was  silent,  one  of  the 


182  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

men  nudged  Sain  and  asked  in  a  whisper  if  he 
couldn't  "set  her  agoin'  agin." 

It  was  easy  enough.  She  was  a  sociable  little 
body,  and  the  few  awkward  questions  drew  ready 
replies — an  artless  story  which  unconsciously  gave 
glimpses  of  mauy  a  hardship  and  privation.  The 
pale-faced  mother  only  smiled  and  listened.  Pres- 
ently the  child  broke  off  a  seuteuce  abruptly  and 
turned  toward  the  door. 

"  There's  papa  !  " 

When  the  master  of  the  house  beheld  his  callers, 
his  face  betrayed  his  surprise,  though  he  greeted 
them  pleasantly.  As  for  tbe  guests,  suddenly 
recalled  to  a  remembrauce  of  their  errand,  they 
glanced  furtively  at  each  other  and  were  silent  for 
a  moment. 

"Parson,"  broke  forth  Dirk  desperately,  "we've 
come — we've  come  to — that  is  to  say  if  you'll  hold  a 
preachm'  down  to  the  camp  Christmas  night  we'll 
all  be  there,  an'  a  lot  more  of  the  fellers."  He  con- 
cluded with  a  savage  glance  at  his  companions, 
which  challenged  them  to  dispute  at  their  peril ; 
but  no  one  offered  the  slightest  opposition.  They 
drew  a  long  breath  of  relief,  indeed,  as  the  aston- 
ished preacher  appointed  the  hour  for  a  meeting, 
and  quietly  took  their  departure.  Half  way  down 
the  winding  path  a  figure  dodging  behind  the  tree 
was  anxiously  watching  their  approach.  Sam 
espied  and  pounced  upou  it,  dragging  little  Jim 
into  the  moonlight. 

"You  young  rascal,  did  you  know  there  was  a 
woman — a  sick  woman  and  a  little  gal  up  there?" 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  181 

Jim,  under  the  shaking,  muttered  something  that 
might  have  been  an  affirmative. 

" Then  why  didn't  ye  say  so!" 

"'Cause  I  wanted  ye  to  go  an'  see,"  ventured 
Jim,  feeling  that  the  hand  on  his  collar  was,  after 
all,  not  a  very  angry  one. 

There  was  an  unusually  quiet  session  around  the 
camp-fire  that  evening,  and  the  pipes  were  smoked 
meditatively. 

"When  I  was  a  youngster,  'way  back  east,"  said 
one  of  the  party,  "they  uster  have  donat  ion  part  i<  sj 
or  somethin',  for  the  parson,  an'  carried  him  slathers 
of  things." 

"That's  the  talk,"  said  Dirk,  with  sudden 
lightening  of  his  dark  face. 

"  Go  up  to  Hard  Licks  to-morrow,  make  'em  open 
op,  and  scoop  the  store." 

The  proposition  was  carried  by  acclamation. 
Hard  Licks  was  not  a  large  town,  but  it  had  a  high 
opinion  of  its  own  importance,  and  its  shop-windows 
were  gorgeous.  These  latter  furnished  the  chief 
suggestions  concerning  what  would  be  useful  in  a 
poor  missionary's  family,  and  the  buyers  were  lav- 
ish. More  critical  people  might  have  objected  to  a 
crimson  silk  dressing-gown  for  the  invalid,  and  gay 
sashes  for  the  sober  little  maiden  did  not  harmonize 
with  their  surroundings;  but  the  committee  from 
Hustler's  Camp  was  not  critical,  and  indulged  its 
eye  for  color  regardless  of  expense.  Useful  articles 
went  with  the  finery,  however,  and  the  little  cabin 
on  the  hillside  was  fairly  inundated  with  comforts 
and  luxuries. 


184         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

"Blest  if  our  parson  shan't  live  like  other  folks' 
parsons,"  said  Sam,  voicing  the  sentiment  of  the 
camp. 

And  the  patient,  persevering  minister  looked  up 
with  eyes  grown  dim  and  whispered  : 

"Dear  Lord,  I  want  to  win  these  souls  for  Thee, 
and  Thou  hast  opened  wide  the  door." 


AT  CHRISTMASTIME 

By  permission  of  "The  Ladies'  World,"  New  York 


AT  Christmas-time  on  Judea's  hills 
The  moonlight  falls  with  silver  glow, 
And  shepherds  watch  their  flocks  by  night, 

Just  as  in  ages  long  ago. 
At  Christmas-time  our  hearts  still  turn 
With  loviug  thoughts  to  that  far  day, 
"When  augel  hosts  proclaimed  the  birth 
Of  Him  who  in  the  manger  lay. 

Though  centuries  have  passed  away 

Since  earth  its  Christmas-time  first  knew, 
The  centuries  that  are  to  come 

Will  celebrate  His  birth  anew. 
The  light  of  Bethlehem's  wondrous  star 

Has  shone  through  all  the  ages  long, 
And  'round  the  world  on  wings  of  love 

Has  rolled  the  angels'  glorious  song. 

W.  G.  Park 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  185 

ROGER  KENT'S  HOME  COMING 

By  permission  of  "  The  Home  Defender,"  Chicago 


HIS  head  ached  and  his  heart  ached.  He  waa 
very  young,  he  thought,  rebelliously,  to  be  so 
unhappy — hardly  more  than  seventeen  ;  and  he  had 
tried  so  hard,  during  these  last  six  months  he  had 
spent  in  the  city,  to  delude  himself  with  the  idea 
that  he  was  as  happy  and  contented  as  a  boy  could 
be.  He  had  been  earning  a  fair  salary,  and  was  his 
own  master.  What  more  could  a  boy  wish  ?  And 
yet — he  was  very,  very  miserable  just  now.  He 
had  gone  to  the  store  that  morning  two  hours  late, 
with  this  same  headache  throbbing  at  his  temples. 
One  of  his  employers  had  called  him  into  his 
office,  and  had  talked  severely,  though  not  un- 
kindly, to  him. 

"I'm  sorry,  Mr.  Kent,"  he  said  in  conclusion; 
"but  we  can  have  no  drinking  men  in  our  store. 
You  have  good  parents  and  a  good  home  in  the 
country,  if  I've  heard  aright.  Take  my  advice  and 
go  back  to  them.  I  came  from  the  country  myself 
when  a  lad,  and  I  know  the  temptations  that  beset 
a  young  man  unused  to  city  life.  Unfortunately,  I 
couldn't  have  gone  back  if  I  had  wanted  to.  The 
cashier  will  pay  you  the  amount  due  you.  Invest 
the  money  in  car  fare,  like  a  sensible  fellow." 

Roger  rushed  blindly  from  the  store,  not  seeing 
the  look  of  sympathy  that  Hal  Fleming  gave  him. 
He  never  wanted  to  see  Hal  Fleming  or  his  clique 
again.  It  was  they  who  had  brought  this  trouble 
and  disgrace  upon  him.     They  had  urged  him  again 


1 86  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

aud  again  to  take  "just  one  little  sip"  of  the  strong 
concoction  they  had  brewed  in  Hal's  room,  and  at 
last  he  had  yielded — through  shame.  They  had 
applauded,  tmd  he  had  sipped  a  little  more,  and 
that  was  all  he  remembered  about  it  the  next  morn- 
ing when  he  awoke,  faint  and  dizzy  and  miserable. 

Yes,  he  had  actually  been  ashamed  to  do  what 
was  right.  He  felt  as  if  the  mark  of  his  shame  were 
on  his  forehead. 

He  slipped  from  the  glare  of  the  electric  lights  of 
Sixth  Avenue  into  the  gloom  and  quiet  of  a  narrow 
side  street. 

The  choir  of  one  of  the  little  churches  was  re- 
hearsing the  songs  for  Christmas. 

Roger  leaned  wearily  against  the  sleet- covered 
iron  railing  of  the  fence,  and  heard,  as  in  a  dream, 
the  deep  tones  of  the  organ  and  the  sweet,  boyish 
voices  as  they  sang.  He  could  not  hear  the  words, 
but  somehow  the  music  quieted  him.  The  anger 
and  bitterness  seemed  all  gone"  from  his  heart. 

He  could  see  the  little  Connecticut  farmhouse  that 
he  had  left,  with  a  passionate,  rebellious  heart, 
simply  because  his  father  had  denied  him  a  few 
privileges  he  had  thought  were  his  by  right.  He 
knew  now — as  he  had  half  known,  but  never  con- 
fessed, all  along — that  his  father  was  in  the  right. 

Should  he  take  his  employer's  advice  and  go 
back  f  He  knew  what  his  welcome  would  be — that 
his-  mother  would  laugh  aud  cry  with  joy,  and  that 
his  father  would  be  glad,  too,  though  he  might  say 
little.  He  would  be  there  in  time  for  the  Christmas 
holiday.     An  unpleasant  lump  rose  in  his  throat  as 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  187 

he  thought  of  the  loving  remembrances  that  he  had 
always  received. 

There  was  a  letter  in  his  inside  coat  pocket.  It 
was  short  and  badly  written,  but  it  was  from 
mother  !  Roger  thrilled  as  he  whispered  the  word, 
and  it  was  very  precious  to  him  just  now.  He 
passed  his  hand  over  his  breast  to  feel  if  it  were 
still  there.  His  father  had  been  ailing  a  good  deal 
lately,  she  wrote.  He  missed  Roger's  help,  and  he 
seemed  to  take  very  little  interest  in  the  plans  for 
next  year's  work.  Then  she  had  spoken  of  Christ- 
mas. There  was  a  tear  stain  on  the  signature, 
u  Elizabeth  Roger  Kent." 

But  hark !  Some  one  was  singing  a  solo  in  the 
church,  and  as  the  yearning  pathos  of  the  sweet 
voice  fell  upon  Roger's  ear,  a  great  sob  shook  his 
frame  and  a  mist  of  tears  blinded  his  eyes. 

When  the  beautiful  hymn  had  ceased,  he  made  a 
vow  in  the  solemn  hush  that  followed — that  he  would 
not  rest  until  he  had  clasped  his  mother  in  his  arms, 
and  had  gotten  the  blessing  of  his  father's  forgive- 
ness. He  felt  in  his  pocket  to  determine  just  how 
much  money  he  had. 

There  was  a  five  dollar  bill  and  some  change  in 
silver.  "  More  than  enough  to  take  me  home,"  he 
said,  "and  I  shall  be  able  to  begin  with  a  dollar  in 
my  pocket.  But  my  heart  will  be  as  Light  as  my 
pocket,  and  it's  been  as  heavy  as  lead  all  the  time 
I've  spent  in  the  great,  crowded  place  I'm  leaving 
behind  me." 

Roger's  heart  beat  almost  to  suffocation  as  he 
drew  near  the  brown  house  at  the  cud  of  Low  Lane 


1 88         CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

at  dawn.  The  roseate  gleams  in  the  east  were  lik« 
an  omen  to  his  softened  niiud.  There  was  a  light 
in  the  front  window,  shining  straight  toward  the 
two  gaunt,  bare  poplars  by  the  gate. 

"Mother's  up  and  stirring,"  whispered  Roger, 
tapping  lightly  on  the  door,  with  a  trembling  hand. 

Mrs.  Kent  opened  the  door  with  joy  beaming  in 
her  eyes.  Roger  held  her  in  his  arms  many  minutes 
before  either  spoke. 

"  I'  ve  been  expecting  you,  Roger, ' '  she  said  simply. 
"  I  got  up  early  to  see  if  the  lamp  was  all  right  in 
the  window.  It's  been  put  there  every  night  since 
you  went  away." 

His  father  was  not  demonstrative  by  nature,  but 
there  were  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  his  voice  trembled 
as  he  gripped  Roger's  hand  and  said:  "Merry 
Christmas,  my  son,  and  God  bless  you  !  " 

Anthony  E.  Anderson 


AN  UNFORTUNATE 

Ey  permission  of  "The  Constitution,"  Atlanta,  Ga. 


IDES  so  weak  en  sinful, 
Or  else,  so  old  en  po' 
Dat  Mister  Chris' mus  done  fergit 
De  number  on  my  do'. 

I  tell  him  :    "  Heah  I  is,  suh  ! 

You  been  dis  way  befo'." 
But  Mister  Chris' mus  done  fergit 

De  number  on  my  do'. 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  189 

I  see  hini  fin'  de  rich  folks 

Dat  des  don't  want  no  mo'  ; 
But — good  Lawd  knows  he  done  fergit 

De  number  on  my  do'. 

I  wonders  en  I  wonders 

Des  why  he  slight  me  so? 
I  hopes  de  Lawd  '11  show  him 

De  number  ou  my  do', 

Frank  L.  Stanton 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  CHEIST-CHILD 

By  permission  of  "The  Ladies'  World,"  New  York 


IT  was  dark  and  cold  in  the  cottage, 
For  the  fire  was  burning  low 
And  the  one  rushlight  was  hoarded. 
The  hand  of  the  midnight  snow 

Beat,  beat  at  the  narrow  casement 

Like  the  clods  on  coffin  thrown, 
And  a  mother,  widowed,  and  young,  and  fair, 

Sat  holding  her  child,  alone, 

When,  hark  !  a  knock  at  the  doorway  — 

Unbidden  a  guest  came  in  ; 
A  trav'lcr,  aged,  and  bent,  and  frail, 

And  cloak  wrapped  to  his  chin. 


190  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

''Good  Hausfrau,  lost  on  the  mountain 

A  wandering  one  am  I ; 
Oh,  give  me  a  place  and  a  fire  and  a  sup 

Or  else  in  the  storm  I  die." 

She  paused — one  hoarded  rushlight, 

A  meagre  handful  of  food, 
And  to  keep  her  child  from  the  bitter  cold 

A  bundle  of  kindling  wood  ! 

Could  she  give  of  her  store?   Oh,  hush  !  oh,  hark  \ 

From  the  steeples  far  below 
The  wind  was  bringing  the  Christmas  chimes 

Through  beat  of  the  falling  snow. 

And  she  said  :  "For  the  sake  of  the  Christ-child 

I  give  you  all  my  store  ; 
For  the  Christ-child  goes  on  Christmas  Eve 

With  blessings  from  door  to  door. 

"  Perchance  there  are  some  who  need  Him  more 

With  whom  He  is  called  to  stay  ; 
He  has  missed  my  door  this  Christmas  Eve  — 

'Tis  far  up  this  mountain  way  — 

"And  He  astray  in  the  snowfall 

May  be  seeking  a  place  to  rest ; 
For  He  is  only  a  Kindchen, 

Like  the  weanling  at  my  breast." 

She  rose  and  went  to  the  cupboard 

And  'twas  stored  with  wholesome  food  I 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  191 

Amazed,  she  sought  for  a  fagot  — 

And  the  basket  was  heaped  with  wood  ! 

She  turned  to  the  ragged  stranger, 

And  lo  !  in  his  humble  stead 
Stood  one  in  a  shining  whiteness, 

With  a  halo  'round  his  head  — 

The  snow  beat  at  the  casement 

Could  not  drown  the  steeple  din  — 

When  she  opened  her  heart  to  the  beggar 
The  Christ-child  had  entered  in  ! 

Mary  Clarke  Huntington 


A  CHRISTMAS  COFFEE  POT 

By  permission  of  the  Author 


HE  was  only  ten  years  old,  and  lie  ought  to  have 
been  in  school,  of  course;  but  his  father  was 
dead,  and  his  mother  almost  an  invalid,  to  whose 
slender  and  uncertain  income  from  her  needle 
Benny's  two  dollars  a  week  at  Haines's  General 
Store  was  no  mean  addition.  Some  weeks,  indeed, 
his  earnings  were  greater  than  hers.  Those  were 
proud  moments  for  Benny,  and.  oh,  how  they  made 
him  yearn  to  be  earning  ten  dollars  a  week  in  the 
stoic,  like  Hank  Sellers!  Hank  was  Benny's  ideal 
of  a  great  man,  for  he  could  blow  smoke  through 
his  nose  without  coughing  :  he  conld  lift  a  barrel  of 
salt;  throw  anybody  in  town  in  a  wrestling  match, 


i92  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

and  break  the  wildest  colts  that  were  ever  brought 
to  him.  Beany  learned  in  Sunday-school  and  from 
his  mother  that  some  of  these  things  were  not  nice \ 
yet,  if  they  weren't,  why  did  a  great  man  like  Hank 
Sellers  do  them  ? 

Every  Saturday  night  Benny  hurried  straight 
home  with  his  two  silver  dollars  ;  in  the  beginning 
he  also  conscientiously  carried  home  the  occasional 
nickel  or  dime  which  he  picked  up  in  return  for 
some  little  favor  done  a  customer.  But  one  day  his 
mother  told  him,  with  a  queer  little  catch  in  her 
voice,  that  hereafter  he  could  have  these  extras  for 
himself.  He  kept  them  after  this,  but  whatever  he 
bought  with  them— candy  or  licorice-root  or  an 
orange — he  always  shared  with  little  Elizabeth  and 
his  mother. 

Since  September,  however  --and  it  was  now  next 
to  the  last  week  in  December — he  had  not  spent  a 
penny.  Why,  was  a  secret  into  which  he  had  let 
no  one  but  little  Elizabeth.  He  was  going  to  make 
the  first  Christmas  gift  of  his  life,  and  it  was  to  be 
to  his  mother  !  But  what  ?  This  was  the  question 
he  had  pondered  for  days.  He  had  considered  at 
least  a  dozen  articles,  always  carefully  bearing  the 
cost  in  mind,  but  no  sooner  would  he  decide  on  any 
one  of  them  than  all  the  others  would  at  once  take 
on  new  charms,  and  thus  undo  his  decision. 

What  he  wanted  was  something  that  his  mother 
really  needed  and  would  use  every  day,  but  which 
at  the  same  time  would  be  beautiful  and  enduring, 
and  would  not  cost  over  seventy-five  cents.  It 
proved  a  difficult  combination,  and  he  was  begin* 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  193 

ning  to  despair,  when  oue  morning  at  breakfast, 
just  four  days  before  Christmas,  his  mother  said  : 
"Benny,  dear,  I  guess  you'll  have  to  take  the  coffee- 
pot down  to  Mr.  Conrad's  again.  It  has  sprung 
another  leak."  In  that  moment  the  inspiration 
came.  He  would  get  her  a  new  coffee- pot !  Not  a 
plain  tin  affair  like  her  old  one,  which  was  bat  tried 
and  soldered  in  many  a  place,  with  its  spout  twisted 
and  the  button  gone  from  the  lid;  but  a  gorgeous 
one  of  white-and-blue  granite-iron,  such  as  he  had 
seen  in  Conrad's  window. 

That  very  afternoon,  after  school,  Elizabeth,  fol- 
lowing instructions,  stopped  at  the  store  for  her 
brother,  for  the  selection  of  the  coffee-pot  was  a  re- 
sponsibility not  to  be  assumed  by  any  one  person. 
Benny  got  excused  for  a  little  while,  and  the  dimin- 
utive pair  hastened  toward  Conrad's  hardware  store. 
They  paused  in  front  of  the  window,  and  Benny 
eagerly  pointed  out  the  pot  which  he  had  chosen, 
contingently,  earlier  in  the  day.  ' '  Ain't  it  a  beauty, 
Lizzie  \  "  he  asked. 

"It's  awful  pretty,"  she  murmured. 

"  How  much  does  it  cost  1  " 

"  I  ain't  asked  yet,  but  Hank  says  that  no  granite- 
iron  coffee-pot  ever  made  ought  to  cost  over  seventy- 
five  cents  ;  and  he  knows,  'cause  he  used  to  work  in 
a  hardware  store.  We'll  go  in  and  ask,  if  you  think 
it'll  do." 

"It's  beautiful,  brother." 

"Do  you  think  it's  too  big?"  he  interrogated 
anxiously. 

"  Oh,  no.     I  think  it's  just  right." 


194  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

"Then  I'll  ask.  Wait  till  I  count  my  money 
again.7' 

He  drew  from  his  trousers-pocket  half  a  handful  of 
pennies,  nickels,  and  dimes,  and  after  some  study 
found  that  they  totaled  seventy-five  cents— just  the 
amount  he  should  have  had.  Then  he  paused  for 
one  final  glance  at  the  gorgeous  pot.  It  was  in  that 
fateful  moment  that  his  eyes  fell  on  a  pot  which  had 
somehow  escaped  him  hitherto — a  beautiful  vessel 
which  shone  like  silver,  with  a  fancy  curved  spout 
and  figured  handle*,  a  very  king  of  coffee-pots,  in  fact 
throned  high  above  all  the  rest.  He  gasped,  and  in 
that  instant  the  glory  of  the  granite-iron  pot  faded 
forever,  and  it  became  a  common,  plebeian  thing. 

"  Look  at  that  silver  one  !  "  said  he,  in  a  hopeless 
tone. 

"  Oh,  my  !  "  exclaimed  Elizabeth.  "  I  wish  we 
could  buy  mother  that  one  ;  but  I  expect  it  costs 
ten  dollars,  don't  you  % " 

Benny  shook  his  head,  too  dejected  to  show  his 
boyish  scorn  of  her  ignorance.  ' '  It  don' t  cost  that ; 
no  coffee-pot  costs  that— except  a  king's,  mebbe. 
But  it  costs  too  much  for  us." 

He  fastened  his  longing  blue  eyes  on  the  glittering 
object  again.  It  seemed  to  shine  with  even  more 
effulgence  than  before,  and  he  pictured  to  himself, 
with  an  aching  heart,  the  glow  that  would  come  to 
his  mother's  face  if  he  could  only  make  her  such  a 
magnificent  present  as  that.  "  Lizzie,"  said  he,  al- 
most tragically,  while  his  lip  quivered,  "I  ain't 
goin'  to  get  mother  a  coffee-pot,  after  all.  I'uigohr 
to  get  her  something  else." 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  195 

"  What  you  goin'  to  get  her?"  asked  Elizabeth, 
greatly  disappointed  at  this  outcome  of  their  mo- 
mentous shopping  expedition. 

"I  ain't  decided  yet.  I'll  think  it  over.  You 
stop  at  the  store  to-morrow  afternoon  again.  But  1 
wisht  I  hadn't  seen  that  silver  coffee-pot,"  he  added, 
sadly. 

On  the  way  to  work  next  day  he  could  not  resist 
the  temptation  to  stop  and  look  at  the  silver  coffee- 
pot again.  Some  fairy  must  have  polished  it  over 
night,  for  it  reflected  the  morning  sun  in  a  manner 
that  was  fairly  dazzling.  Each  time  that  day  that 
he  passed  Conrad's  window  with  the  delivery  wagon 
— and  he  went  out  of  his  way  several  times  to  do  it 
— he  turned  a  pair  of  hungry  eyes,  toward  the  object 
of  his  desires.  Once,  during  the  afternoon,  he  saw 
Mr.  Conrad  showing  it  to  a  lady,  and  his  heart  sank. 
He  also  felt  some  resentment,  just  as  if  the  pot  were 
his,  and  not  Mr.  Conrad's.  But  when  he  came  back, 
there  was  the  king  on  his  throne  again,  looking,  if 
possible,  more  royal  than  ever. 

"  Lizzie,"  said  he,  desperately,  when  the  pair  once 
more  stood  in  front  of  the  window,  "  I  ain't  thought 
of  anything  else  yet,  and  I'm  goin'  to  ask  Mr.  Con- 
rad how  much  it's  worth." 

Elizabeth's  eyes  opened  wide  at  this  venturesome 
declaration. 

"  Mebbe  he  won't  like  it,  Benny.  He  knows 
we're  too  poor  to  buy  it." 

"I  don't  care,"  answered  Benny.  "I  heard 
Hank  Sellers  ask  a  man  the  price  of  a  thrashing 
machine  once,  and  he  didn'l  have  the  money  to  buy 


j96  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

it.  And  mebbe  that  pot  don't  cost  but  seventy-five 
cents." 

They  climbed  the  steps  of  the  old  frame  building. 
It  was  with  a  feeling  of  relief  that  he  noted  the  ab- 
sence of  any  other  customers  in  the  store. 

"Mr.  Conrad,"  he  beejan,  with  a  tremor  in  his 
voice  which  he  could  not  quite  control,  "  I  want  to 
look  at  your  coffee-pots.  I  want  to  get  mother  one 
for  Christmas.  How  much  is  that — that  silver  one 
in  the  window,  with  the  crooked  spout?" 

Elizabeth  tightened  her  grip  on  Benny's  hand  as 
Mr.  Conrad  stepped  to  the  window  and  lifted  the 
beauteous  thing  down.  "Do  you  mean  this  one  If 
That's  a  dollar  and  a  quarter,  Benny." 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  intense  silence. 

"  I  suppose  it's  solid  silver,"  said  Benny,  trying 
to  muster  a  matter-of-fact  tone,  but  struggling  with 
a  lump  in  his  throat. 

"  No  ;  it's  nickle-plated  ;  but  for  all  practical  pur- 
poses it  is  as  good  as  silver.  Do  you  think  you 
would  like  it?" 

Benny  shook  his  head.  "  I  ain't  got  the  money," 
he  answered,  almost  inaudibly. 

"  We  have  some  cheaper  pots,"  said  the  merchant, 
kindly.  "Some  as  loir  as  a  quarter."  But  Benny 
again  shook  his  head.  "I  wanted  to  get  her  some- 
thing nice.  I — I  wouldn't  take  no  pleasure  in  a 
cheap  pot  after  seem'  that  one.     Come  on,  Lizzie." 

"How  much  money  have  you,  Benny?"  called 
the  merchant,  as  the  children  reached  the  door. 

"  Seventy-five  cents." 

Conrad  hesitated,  and  glanced  at  the  bottom  of 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  197 

the  pot.  It  was  marked  0 — 111,  which  meant  that  it 
had  cost,  just  as  it  happened,  seventy-five  cents. 
Then  he  glanced  at  the  diminutive  pair.  They  were 
about  the  age  of  his  own  two  children.  "  Benny," 
said  he,  with  a  smile,  "  this  is  the  season  of  peace  on 
earth  and  good-will  to  men  ;  and  I  am  going  to  let 
you  have  this  pot  for  seventy-five  cents." 

Benny's  eyes  lighted  wondrously  for  an  instant  : 
then  the  radiance  faded,  and  he  said,  in  a  hard  little 
voice,  without  turning  back,  "I  don't  want  you  to 
give  it  to  me,  Mr.  Conrad." 

"  I  am  not  giving  it  to  you  ;  seventy-five  cents  is 
just  what  it  cost  me,  and  I  often  sell  goods  to  favored 
customers  at  cost.  You  and  your  mother  have  al- 
ways been  good  customers  of  mine,  and  I  should  be 
glad  to  have  you  take  this  pot  at  seventy-five  cents." 

"All  right,  sir,  if  you  put  it  that  way,"  answered 
the  proud  little  boy  ;  aud  once  more  he  counted  out 
his  change,  fearful  lest  a  penny  or  two  might  have 
got  away,  and  thus  at  the  last  moment  vitiate  the 
sale.  But  it  was  all  there.  When  the  pot  was 
wrapped  Benny  lifted  it  down  with  a  sense  of  tre- 
mendous responsibility. 

"Suppose  you'd  fall  down  and  smash  it,  Benny," 
suggested  Elizabeth,  awesomely,  as  they  trudged 
over  the  icy  sidewalks. 

"  I  ain't  goin'  to  fall,"  said  he,  confidently.  "  I've 
carried  things  as  valuable  as  this  before — glass,  too. 
But  never  nothin'  for  mother." 

"Suppose  a  horse  ruuned  over  you,"  continued 
Elizabeth. 

"  1  ain't  liable  to  be  ruuned  over  by  a  horse  x*  hen 


iq8  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

1  drive  one  myself  every  day.     Hank  says  old  Ked's 
got  the  hardest  mouth  of  any  horse  in  town." 

Benny  expected  to  smuggle  the  coffee-pot  into  the 
house  on  Christmas  Eve.  He  had  not  yet  decided 
whether  he  would  softly  arise  some  time  in  the  night 
and  tie  his  gift  to  his  mother's  stocking — he  would 
hint  beforehand  that  it  would  be  well  for  her  to 
hang  it  up  along  with  his  and  Elizabeth's  this  year, 
—or  whether  he  would  set  it  in  the  cupboard,  in 
place  of  the  old  pot,  and  let  her  find  it  when  she 
went  to  make  coffee  in  the  morning.  Each  plan  had 
some  feature  to  recommend  it.  But  meanwhile  he 
deemed  it  wisest  to  keep  the  precious  gift  at  the 
store,  although  just  where  to  stow  it  was  a  serious 
question.  Under  a  counter  it  might  get  dented  ;  on 
a  shelf  it  might  fall  off,  especially  if  there  should 
happen  to  be  an  earthquake.  Moreover,  if  such  a 
valuable  thing  were  left  in  an  exposed  place,  bur- 
glars might  find  it  out  and  break  in  and  carry  it  off. 
Finally  Hank  Sellers,  whom  Benny  took  into  his 
confidence,  hid  the  pot  in  a  drawer  under  some  rolls 
of  cotton  batting. 

Benny's  work  day  ended  at  six  o'clock.  About 
half-past  three  o'clock  on  Christmas  Eve  the  tele- 
phone in  the  store  rang  vigorously.  Mrs.  Bosecrans 
wanted  to  know  why  the  two  pounds  of  raisins  she 
had  ordered  for  her  Christmas  pudding  had  not  been 
delivered.  Hank  Sellers  hung  up  the  receiver  with 
a  growl.  Mrs.  Bosecrans  lived  outside  the  village 
limits,  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  store. 
Benny  had  been  out  there  twice  that  day  in  the  de- 
livery wagon  with  baskets  full  of  Christmas  cheer ; 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  199 

but  Hank  had  overlooked  the  raisins  in  putting  up 
her  order.  Mrs.  Boseerans  Mas  Haines's  besl  cus- 
tomer, and  could  not  be  disappointed,  although  the 
horse  had  been  put  away  for  the  day. 

"Benny,"  said  Hank,  in  a  tone  not  intended  for 
his  employer's  ear,  "  do  you  suppose  you  could  hitch 
up  old  Ned  by  yourself  and  take  two  pounds  of  rai- 
sins out  to  old  lady  Koseerans?  1  can't  leave  the 
stoie  now,  and  she'll  have  a  lit  if  those  raisins  aren't 
delivered." 

Benny  had  never  hitched  up  the  horse,  but  he  was 
not  the  boy  to  admit,  especially  to  his  idol,  that  ho 
was  unable  to  do  a  thing  before  he  had  tried,  it.  So 
a  few  minutes  later  he  trudged  over  to  Haines's 
barn  with  the  bag  of  raisins  under  oue  arm.  Hank 
had.  told  him  that  he  needn't  come  back  again  that 
day,  so  under  the  other  arm  he  carried  the  precious 
coffee-pot.  Arriving  at  the  barn,  he  seized  old  Ned's 
forelock  with  a  reassuring  "  IIo,  boy!"  as  Hank 
always  did,  and  unbuckled  the  halter.  But  old 
Ned,  having  done  his  day's  stint  of  work,  was  not  to 
be  harnessed  again,  especially  by  tin's  pigmy.  So 
he  snorted,  threw  up  his  head,  and  derisively  can- 
tered out  into  the  barnyard.  For  fifteen  in i miles 
Benny  coaxed  and  chased,  stumbling  over  the  frozen 
ground,  and  bruising  his  bare  hands  till  they  bled, 
but  the  wary  old  Ned  would  neither  reenter  his  stall 
nor  allow  himself  to  be  caught.  So  Benny  resolved 
to  walk  out  to  Mrs.  Koseerans'. 

It  was  half-past  four  o'clock  when  he  reached  the 
big  house,  and  the  snii  was  nearly  down  to  the  tree 
tops  in  the  west.     A  few  flakes  of  snow  were  drift- 


200  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

ing  as  he  started  back,  and  before  he  reached  tfr«i 
public  road  they  were  falling  thick  and  fast.  He 
decided  to  take  a  short  cut  across  a  large  tract  of 
meadow.  The  old  snow  in  the  meadow  proved 
deeper  than  he  had  thought,  and  his  wet  feet  soon 
got  very  cold,  but  he  cheered  his  flagging  spirits  by 
hugging  the  coffee-pot  tighter,  and  picturing  his 
dear  mother's  smile  when  she  should  receive  her 
present  in  the  morning. 

Presently  he  found  himself  in  a  grove.  He  was 
greatly  surprised  at  this,  for  he  knew  that  no  trees 
grew  in  the  meadow.  He  had  been  floundering 
along  with  his  head  down,  and  now,  looking  up  to 
get  his  bearings,  he  discovered  that  no  landmarks 
wrere  visible.     Snow,  snow,  nothing  but  snow. 

By  this  time  the  pulpy  brown  paper  had  been 
rubbed  from  the  coffee-pot.  Benny's  brave  little 
heart  failed  him,  and  he  began  to  cry  in  short,  hard, 
bitter  sobs  ;  he  had  an  irresistible  desire  to  sink 
down  in  the  snow  and  rest,  but  the  thought  of  home 
and  mother  and  the  Christmas  entertainment  at  the 
church  kept  him  going.  Elizabeth,  made  up  like  a 
fairy,  was  to  sing  a  song  at  the  church,  and  he  did 
not  want  to  miss  that.  And  the  next  day  was 
Christmas ! 

The  lethargy  which  cold  and  excessive  fatigue 
produce  was  fast  overcoming  him  when  he  was 
rudely  jarred  by  bumping  into  something.  Al- 
though utterly  indifferent  to  his  surroundings  now, 
he  knew  from  the  feel  and  smell  of  the  object  that 
it  was  a  strawstack,  and  he  sank  down  in  the  litter 
of  straw   with   a   strange   but   delightful  sense  of 


CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS  201 

languor  ;  closing  Lis  eyes  with  a  smile,  he  began  to 
repeat : 

'  "[was  the  night  before  Christmas,  and  all  through  the  house 
Not  a  creature  was  stirring,  uot  even  a  mouse." 

Then,  muttering  in  a  fitful  way  a  part  of  the  little 
prayer  he  made  each  night  at  his  mother's  knee,  he 
fell  asleep. 

There,  three  hours  later,  the  searching  party  with 
their  gleaming  lanterns,  found  him,  with  the  coffee- 
pot clasped  in  his  arms, — in  a  stupor  which  is  the 
precursor  of  death. 

When  he  regained  consciousness,  his  mother  was 
sitting  beside  the  bed. 

"Have  I  come  home,  mother?"  he  asked,  in  a 
mystified  tone. 

"Yes,  darling.  The  men — the  good,  kind  men — 
found  you  and  brought  you  home." 

Then  the  memory  of  the  present  flashed  over  him. 

"And  is  it  Christmas  yet,  mother?" 

"Yes,  it  is  now  two  o'clock,  and  really  Christmas." 

"  Did  you  hang  up  your  stocking  \  " 

"Yes.  don't  you  remember  that  you  told  meat 
dinner  yesterday  to  be  sure  not  to  forget  it?" 

He  burst  into  tears.  "You  won't  get  nothing 
now,  mother,"  he  sobbed.      "Host  it  in  the  snow  !" 

"Oh,  no.  you  didn't,  darling!  You  had  it  in 
your  arms  when  they  found  you,  and  you  held  it  SO 
tightly  thai  they  lei  it  stay  in  your  arms  till  they 
gol  you  home— that  beautiful,  beautiful  coffee-pot, 
finer  than  mother  ever  had  before  or  ever  hoped  to 
have.     Mother  shall  always  be  so  proud  of  it     But 


202  CHRISTMAS  SELECTIONS 

bow  much  prouder  she  shall  always  be  of  her  noble 
boy,  who,  in  all  his  pain  and  despair,  out  there  in 
the  darkness  and  storm,  would  not  abandon  his  pres- 
ent for  her ! " 

"Mother,"  he  said,  with  radiant  face,  "I  knew 
you'd  talk  like  an  angel  when  I  gave  it  to  you. 
That's  one  reason  why  I  did  it, — just  to  hear  you. 
But  I  wanted  you  to  have  it,  too,"  he  added  quickly 
lust  before  her  lips  smothered  his  speech. 

Elmore  Elliott  Peake 


3325 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  "below 


N     6  19hSJ 

DEC  2  7  1945 


u, 


JAN  1 


tvlAi 


7V8J9 

DEC^W 
JAN -2     NS1* 


-12, '39(3386) 


DEO  I 


7     1952 

JAN      5  195J 

?r,.  I95B 


■  ■■• 


BifiHP 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA-LOS  ANGELES 


L  007  772  024  1 


PN 
4305 

C5Ii3 
1911 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    000  409  696    2 


■\LIF0RJNUI 

AT 

1   *%C'I       *   XT/llaT    TTIO 


